


Captain John Simcoe's Descent into Madness

by Python07



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Rare Pairing, Torture, Violence, spoilers ep 1.10: The Battle of Setauket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 23,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3944944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Simcoe's confederates spring him from custody after Hewlett has him arrested. He chooses not to run. In that way lies madness and revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “Go on, Reverend Tallmadge. Join your son and you may assure him that Captain Simcoe will be dealt with accordingly.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am fully aware that Richard and Caleb don't share screen time. They exist as a couple in my head. I've learned not to argue with my muses. Spoilers for season 1 and then goes AU. Dialogue borrowed from The Battle of Setauket marked w*.

A church turned into a headquarters/barracks because it was on a hill and they were in an insane time of war.

Hewlett slammed his fist down on the desk. He glared up at Simcoe for even daring to try and loom over him. “I’m trying to save the town!*”

“Then kill the enemy!” Simcoe shouted back. “Force them to charge the barricade. Give them cannon and musket full-on.” He shoved Abe to the side and grabbed the prisoner, Lucas Brewster, from his spot as a human shield by the window. He started dragging the poor old man outside. “All they require is proper motivation!*”

Hewlett jumped to his feet. “Captain, bring him back at once!*”

Simcoe pulled Lucas outside in full view of the Continentals on their flank and at the base of the hill. He tore his hat off and threw it to the side. He held Lucas by the scruff of the neck. He held his pistol to the side of Lucas’ neck. He waited a moment to be sure all eyes were upon him and then he fired.

He didn’t even watch the body hit the ground. The blood spray was warm on his face. He let out a primal scream.

He ignored the shots being fired at him. He turned and marched back into the church. He walked straight up to Nathaniel Tallmadge. He held a hand out to one of the other soldiers. “Eastin, your pistol please.*”

“Belay that! Arrest Captain Simcoe.” Hewlett snarled. He snapped opened the box on his desk and withdrew his pistol. He cocked it and pointed it at Simcoe. “Now!*”

Simcoe shoved the first man away but then two more were on his back. He tried to fight them off but they forced him onto his stomach. He tried to squirm away from the strong hands tying his behind his back. “You deserve what’s coming to you, Oyster Major. That’s what they call you, you know,” he scoffed. “Commander of the army’s backwater-bred--*”

Simcoe didn’t get to finish as Hewlett stood over him. Hewlett stuffed a gag into his mouth and secured it with a strap buckled tightly around his head. He continued to struggle and try to spew more venom through the gag. 

Hewlett straightened up. He kept a boot on the back of Simcoe’s neck. His face was flushed and his voice shook in rage. “Prepare the cannon to repel a charge.” His breath came out in jerky gasps. “We’re in a fight to the death now.*”

“Not if you let them go,” Richard put in with quiet authority. He sat on a chair against the wall to stay out of the way and because he didn’t have the strength to stand. He held a hand over the bandage covering the gunshot wound on his side. Hewlett just stared at him and he continued, “The prisoners, now. All of them.*”

“I’m quite sure an exchange is off the table, Richard,*” Hewlett answered roughly, but he was getting his breathing under control. Simcoe snarled through the gag and he pressed his boot down harder.

“No exchange -- A release, unconditional and immediate.” Richard paused a moment to catch his breath. He blinked and looked to Nathaniel. “And the good reverend will convince his son to withdraw.*”

Hewlett looked to Nathaniel for confirmation. “I see no honor in this fight going on,” Nathaniel said earnestly. “Only further bloodshed.*”

Richard looked away. He tried to suppress the pained coughs bubbling up through his chest. The bandage was wet against his palm.

“I’ll have you know that it wasn’t me who took that shot at you.*”

Richard met Nathaniel’s gaze again. He gave a small nod. 

Hewlett took a deep breath. “Very well.” He gave Simcoe a swift kick to the ribs and them motioned for two soldiers to take him away. He went back to his desk for the keys to the shackles. He released Nathaniel’s hands first. He tossed the keys to Abe to release the rest. Then he turned away and walked to the far window to collect himself.

Nathaniel knelt in front of Richard. He squeezed Richard’s free hand. “Old friend.” He lowered his voice so only Richard could hear. “This is the second time you’ve saved my life.”

Richard grimaced. “And I thought we weren’t going to make a habit of it.”

Nathaniel smiled wryly. Then he noticed the blood seeping through the bandage and Richard’s fingers. He gently pushed Richard’s hand away. He gasped.

“I’m all right,” Richard said wearily and covered it again.

“The hell you are,” Nathaniel growled. He turned his head to try and catch Abe’s eye.

“Don’t worry about me. Get out while you have the chance,” Richard whispered vehemently. With his free hand, he grabbed Nathaniel’s wrist, hard. “And tell Caleb that I’m sorry.”

There was something in Richard’s eyes that made Nathaniel’s gut twist in sympathy. He nodded. “I will.”

By this time, all the of prisoners were free of their bonds. Hewlett came back to his desk and put his hat on. He nodded formally to Abe. 

Abe grabbed the white flag. He opened the door to lead the way. “Let’s go.”

Nathaniel straightened up while Richard put his head back and closed his eyes. Before Nathaniel fell into line with the others, he stepped in Hewlett’s space. He nodded towards Richard. “Take care of him. Without him, this would have turned out much worse.”

Hewlett followed Nathaniel’s gaze. “I know,” he agreed quietly. He held an arm out. “Go on, Reverend Tallmadge. Join your son and you may assure him that Captain Simcoe will be dealt with accordingly.”


	2. "By all means, grieve and be angry, but place blame where it's due."

It was late by the time the Continental force was safely away from Setauket, back on dry land, and in camp. Caleb sat on a log, alone, by a fire. He was tense and his whole body seemed to give off a do not disturb signal. He used a long, wicked bowie knife to fashion a wooden cross for his Uncle Lucas’ grave.

He heard movement behind him. He stopped his whittling. “I thought I told you to leave me alone, Ben,” he growled. 

“And Ben is respecting your wishes,” Nathaniel replied easily. He dropped down onto the opposite end of the log.

Caleb spat out tobacco and wiped his mouth. He didn’t so much as look at Nathaniel. “You can do the same, Reverend.”

Nathaniel held his hands out towards the fire. “No.”

Caleb went back to his work. He turned slightly so his face would be in shadow. “Suit yourself then.”

Nathaniel nodded towards the wood in Caleb’s hands. “Is that for Lucas’ grave?” he asked mildly.

Caleb nodded jerkily. “I’m not sleeping til this is done. I’m not leaving tomorrow until his grave is marked. I’m not just leaving him in some unmarked hole in the ground. He deserves better than that.”

“You picked a nice spot for him under that majestic tree.”

Caleb’s voice was flat and brittle. “And in view of the shoreline. He always did love the water.”

Nathaniel smiled sadly. “That he did. He was a good man.”

Caleb swallowed heavily. “Whose only crime was loving me as a son.”

Nathaniel half turned to face Caleb. He studied Caleb for a long moment. “His death is not your fault.”

Caleb shook his head stubbornly. “I had a hand in it. I may not have pulled the trigger, but the only reason Simcoe went after him is because of me. I should’ve killed that bastard when I had the chance.”

Nathaniel chuckled wryly. “You cannot live on should haves.”

“Uncle Lucas should still be alive!” Caleb threw the wood down and jabbed his knife into the log next to him. He glared at Nathaniel. “We had Simcoe in our power,” he snarled. He was red faced and breathing hard. “We were supposed to kill him at the ambush at the safe house, but we didn’t!”

Nathaniel reached over and pulled the knife free. He watched the fire light glint off the blade. He listened to Caleb taking deep, heaving breaths. He waited patiently for Caleb to regain some semblance of control. He used the same tone that Richard sometimes used to calm him. “You could not have known that decision would come back to haunt us.”

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. “Lucas was a harmless old man,” he whispered raggedly. “All I could do was sit there and watch Simcoe shoot him. I never thought Major Hewlett would condone such a thing.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “The major didn’t. He was going to agree to the exchange. He is a man of order and of honor…” 

“What honor?” Caleb scoffed.

Nathaniel continued as if Caleb hadn’t spoken. “He was horrified and I truly believe he will hold Captain Simcoe accountable.”

Caleb bit his words out furiously. “A lot of good that does. They all share in the blame. Every single one of them English bastards and every person in town who welcomes them with open arms.”

Nathaniel scooted closer. He set the knife on the ground next to the pieces of wood. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. He stared at the fire. “You know it is not that simple.”

Caleb folded his arms across his chest. “Isn’t it?”

“No.”

Caleb pointed to his head. “I know that here.” Then pounded his chest, over his heart. “But I don’t feel it here.”

Nathaniel sat up straight. He rested a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “By all means, grieve and be angry, but place blame where it is due. This tragedy rests solely on Simcoe’s head.” He paused and squeezed Caleb’s shoulder. “Judge Woodhull wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry.”

Caleb just grunted in response.

Nathaniel shook his head and sighed. “The man should’ve been at home, resting his wound.”

“Aye, he’s stubborn. I told Aberdeen to keep him out of it,” Caleb muttered without thinking.

Nathaniel continued without arching so much as an eyebrow. “He’s always been one to take problems head on. After Simcoe shot Lucas, Hewlett was preparing for a fight to the death, but Richard convinced him to just let us go.” He nodded towards the knife. “You’d best finish that so you can get some sleep.”

Caleb nodded absently, still thinking about Richard despite himself. “I will.”

Nathaniel patted Caleb’s back and stood. He disappeared into the darkness but his voice floated back to Caleb. “In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may also be.”


	3. A fire kept the room warm, yet he still shivered.

The loose floorboard in the bedroom was gone and Abe found no sign of his codebook, only his secret pistol. He rushed into the main room where Mary was sitting, staring at the fire. “Mary.” Then he caught a glimpse of the papers burning. “What have you done?” He stepped closer and almost reached out for it. However, it was almost completely gone. “What have you done?*” he asked again, his voice almost breaking.

“What have I done?” Mary demanded and stood. She rounded to face him. “What have I done? Oh, are you going to shoot me now, Abe. Is that it?*”

Abe turned and dropped the pistol on the nearby table. “No. No.*”

“Am I your enemy, Abraham?” Mary was on the verge of shouting. “Have I always been your enemy?*”

Abe turned back towards her and grabbed her shoulders. “Mary, listen to me!” She jerked away and he took a breath and made his voice more level. “Just-- just let me explain, all right? Let me explain about all of this.*”

Mary glared at him. “What is there to explain?” She took a step closer. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparked in anger. “You are a traitor and an adulterer and a spy for Washington. Oh, I’m sorry,” she drawled sarcastically. “-- it’s 711, is it?*”

Abe shook his head. He tried to reach out to her again. 

Mary jerked away from his touch again. “If I had known that you were going to bring your Patriot friends here to attack our town, I would’ve taken that book straight to Major Hewlett, for now I am a party to treason.*”

“Damn it, Mary!” Abe exploded. “I didn’t know that Tallmadge was coming here! He didn’t warn me!*”

Mary took a step back from him. She gulped and looked towards the door fearfully. Abe followed her gaze to see Ensign Baker watching them, rifle slung over his shoulder.

The British soldier looked down for a moment and then back at them. His expression sad, but resolute. “It’s just my luck, I suppose. Always walking in when I’m not wanted.*”

Abe turned to face Baker full on. He swallowed. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Baker didn’t raise his voice. He kept his gaze firmly on Abe. “Step away, Mary,*” he ordered softly and reached for his musket strap.

Abe grabbed his pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at Baker. He was panting. “Please -- please don’t.*”

Baker froze but his tone didn’t change. “You know I have to.*”

“No, you don’t. You don’t.” Abe’s voice cracked and his hand shook slightly. “You can let me leave.” He paused. He could barely get the words out. “I will run away from here and I won’t return.*”

“You may be a treasonist, Mr. Woodhull, but I can’t be,*” Baker answered, soft but with iron conviction.

With that Baker tried to bring his musket up to bear and Abe fired. Red spattered across the white uniform covering Baker’s chest. Baker fell back against the door. He slid down it, gasping for air. He left a vivid red steak against the wood.

Abe ran to Baker. He dropped to his knees. “Mr. Baker. Mr. Baker.*”

Baker just looked at him, terrified and whimpering.

Abe cupped the side of Baker’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

In the next instant, Baker was gone. Abe clutched at him and started hyperventilating. Abe ran a hand through his hair and clutched at the body again. Hot tears pricked his eyelids.

Abe blinked and he was watching his house burn, again. He sat in the wagon, Mary and Thomas next to him. He could feel the heat on his face.

Mary rocked back and forth. “The retreating rebels did it.” She repeated it over and over to herself like a mantra. “Ensign Baker tried to stop them so they killed him and burned our house down. They only let us live because of Thomas.”

Abe woke with a start. He was back at his father’s house. Mary and Thomas were in the spare bedroom, but he couldn’t bare to be with her. Instead, he slept on a rug on the floor by Richard’s bed. A fire kept the room warm, yet he still shivered.

Abe sat up. He hugged his knees to his chest. He bowed his head. 

“Abraham.”

Abe buried his face against his knees and blinked back tears. “I’m sorry for waking you, Father.”

“It’s all right.” Richard reached down to touch the top of Abe’s head.

“Are you in pain? Does it hurt?”

“Only a little.” Richard rubbed the back of Abe’s neck. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” Abe sniffed. He wanted to tell Richard everything, but the words stuck in his throat. He grabbed Richard’s hand and looked up at Richard with wide, pleading eyes. “It’s…It’s…I can’t.”

“It’s all right,” Richard repeated soothingly. “Tell me in the morning.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Abe stammered.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Richard sighed tiredly. “Do you remember when you and your brother were boys and you used to climb into bed with your mother and me?”

Abe smiled despite himself. “When it stormed. You or mother would always tell us a story to help us go back to sleep.”

Richard chuckled. “I remember you shaking like a leaf.”

“I was terrified,” Abe retorted mock defensively. “But when you put your arm around me, I always felt better.”

Richard weakly tugged on Abe’s hand. “Come on. There’s plenty of room. There’s no reason for you to sleep on the floor.”

“I can’t,” Abe gasped.

“Yes, you can.” Richard yawned. “If it helps, pretend that it’s storming.”

Abe got to his feet. He circled to the other side of the bed. He gingerly crawled on it. He curled on his side into a ball, careful not to touch.

Richard had his eyes closed. He smiled. He held his arm out. “You’re on my good side.”

“Are you sure?” Abe asked, fearful of causing Richard any more pain.

“Yes, just be careful.”

Abe’s movements were slow and deliberate as he snuggled into Richard’s side. He rested his head on Richard’s shoulder. He immediately felt some of the tension leave him. He sighed.

Richard rubbed Abe’s back. “And the Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on a mountain to the other side: and there was a valley between them. And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span…”


	4. “We had the high ground. We could have destroyed them. We should have destroyed them, traitors all.”

Simcoe was in the tavern cellar where they had recently kept the conspirators. His shackles were chained to a beam in the ceiling and his feet were off the ground. If he stretched, he could barely touch the floor with his toes. He still had the gag strapped to his face.

There were no windows. Dim light came through the floorboards. Sounds of footsteps and muffled talking and music filtered down to him.

He lost track of how long he’d been down there. He had to concentrate on breathing through his nose. His arms hurt and his legs cramped. His temper was still boiling.

The storm door to the outside opened. Two sets of boots appeared on the staircase. Two soldiers in red coats appeared, one carrying a lamp.

At first he couldn’t see their faces. His first irrational thought was that Hewlett was getting rid of him quietly. He pulled against the manacles and cursed through the gag.

They came closer. They solemnly looked at each other and then at him. The first put his lamp down on a nearby barrel and tsked at Simcoe.

Simcoe’s eyes got wide. He kicked out at them but they just laughed and stepped back. He bit down on the gag, hard.

The first soldier put his hands up. He tried for a straight face but only partially succeeded. “Have you got your madness under control?”

Simcoe tried to snarl a response. He rolled his eyes in frustration and then grudgingly nodded.

The second soldier nodded. “All right then, but you bite me and we leave you here.” He unbuckled the strap and tossed it aside.

Simcoe spit the gag out and inhaled deeply. He coughed and his voice was hoarse. “Get me down from here. Now.”

The first soldier produced a set of keys. He reached up to free Simcoe’s hands. “We wanted to get to you sooner but we had to wait our turn on guard duty.”

Simcoe’s legs gave out as soon as he hit the floor. “Don’t touch me,” he growled, low and dangerous, when they tried to help him. He looked at his surroundings disdainfully. “How long have I been down here?”

The two shared a look as if deciding who would answer. The first soldier took a deep breath. “Almost eight hours.”

“Wonderful, Jenkins,” Simcoe drawled.

Jenkins couldn’t have been older than twenty. He was tall and lanky, like he hadn’t grown into his frame yet. He had soft brown eyes and blonde hair under his wig. He shrugged helplessly. “We had to wait. The Major ordered no visitors for you.”

Simcoe bared his teeth. He spit the words out. “That man is a fool.” He rubbed at the pins and needles in his legs. “We had the high ground. We could have destroyed them. We should have destroyed them, traitors all.”

“And the town,” Jenkins added without thinking. He started and looked at Simcoe with wide eyes.

Simcoe just glared at him coldly.

The second soldier stepped between them. He was a man who could look between twenty-five and forty-five depending on his mood and the light. He had a lean face and a lean body to go with it under the uniform. His ice blue eyes looked to have seen everything. “You executed a prisoner without due process. That’s against the rules of war,” he said flatly.

Simcoe stood. He grit his teeth at the pain that shot through his legs. He stood his full height, at least two inches above the others. He puffed his chest out. “So?”

One end of the man’s mouth quirked up. “So nothing. I don’t care.”

Simcoe grinned savagely. “I didn’t think you did, Kale. I remember how you treated the rebels in Guiana.”

“They were brave,” Kale allowed. “But fought like savages, knew nothing about organization or discipline.” 

“That is why we shall always win,” Simcoe stated.

“I had no problem going with your ideas to flush out the traitors.” Kale shook his head. “But your madness has put us in a tough spot.”

“How so?”

Kale arched an eyebrow. “You shifted suspicion from them to yourself and us by extension.” 

“Major Hewlett wants your neck in a noose…” Jenkins blurted out. “…and when he finds out we’re helping you, he’ll want to stretch our necks, too.” He wrung his hands. “Not to mention if he finds out that it was us who killed his horse.”

“And shot the good judge.” Kale grunted. “I thought we could head north for Canada. A man could get lost up there.”

Simcoe put a hand on each man’s shoulder. “That will not be necessary,” he said smoothly.

Jenkins’ voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve planned for this eventuality. There’s no need to run.”

Kale tilted his head to the side and studied Simcoe. “This town is too small. There is no place to hide.”

Simcoe smiled smugly. “Follow my lead, I shall have my revenge, and all will be well.”

Kale pursed his lips. “All right. We’ll follow you for now.”

“Good.” Simcoe picked up the candle. “Where’s your kid cousin Obie?”

“Standing watch.”

Simcoe lead the way to the staircase. “You told me that he’s a good shot, Sergeant. Why is the judge still breathing?” he asked in an offhand way.

“That’s a kill shot on many men,” Kale answered gruffly.

“That may be so.” 

“The sentries at the house almost caught us,” Jenkins put in.

“That’s your fault,” Simcoe retorted tartly. He smiled at Kale. “It’s of no consequence. Judge Woodhull will fit into my plans quite nicely, right along with the Oyster Major.”


	5. “On occasion, even grown men need the strength of their fathers."

Abe woke more rested than he had any right to be considering the previous day. He was still curled up against Richard’s side, his head on Richard’s chest. He lay still for a long moment, just listening to Richard breathe and the steady heartbeat under his ear. Richard’s hand was a welcome weight on his back.

When the call of nature became too great, Abe carefully eased away. Richard didn’t stir and he was glad of it. He used the chamber pot and then shuffled over to the bureau. He pulled the tie out of his hair, shook his head, and ran his fingers through his hair. He deliberately didn’t look in the mirror. 

Abe silently thanked Aberdeen as he poured some water from the pitcher to the basin. The cold water felt good on his face. He shut his eyes and splashed his face a few more times. He couldn’t wait to go outside and dump an entire bucket over his head. 

He grabbed a nearby towel to pat his cheeks and wipe his hands. Then he wandered over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “It looks like another overcast day,” he remarked quietly.

His own voice sounded rough to his ears. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass. “I can’t just hide in here, can I?” He glanced at Richard out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what to do now and I can’t burden you.”

He took a deep breath and straightened up. He drew the curtain back across the window so the light wouldn’t disturb Richard. He kissed Richard’s forehead. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

Abe slipped into the hall at the same time Hewlett emerged from the door across the hall. Abe suddenly felt scruffy and ill-mannered in his wrinkled, dirty clothes from yesterday (that still smelled of smoke) in the face of Hewlett’s spotless uniform. He inclined his head. “Morning, Major.”

Hewlett smiled gently. “Good morning, Abraham. I trust you slept well.”

“Yes,” Abe muttered and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I…uh…” He pointed back to the door helplessly. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I…”

Hewlett chuckled. He held a hand up. “On occasion, even grown men need the strength of their fathers. Believe me. I speak from experience. There is no shame in it.”

Abe managed a relieved smile. “I am pleased to hear you say so, Sir.” 

Hewlett tilted his head towards the door. “How is your father this morning?”

Abe reached back to touch the door. “He’s sleeping. Yesterday was quite a strain on him.”

“On all of us,” Hewlett agreed gravely. “I feared the worst. I truly thought they would storm the barricade after that shameful display. I would have had no choice but to open full fire on them.” 

Abe let his hand fall to his side. He grunted. “Have you decided Simcoe’s punishment?”

Hewlett started walking. “There will have to be a court martial, for appearances, but if I have my way he will meet the hangman. He not only brought dishonor on himself, but on me and my entire command. I will not have that.”

Abe nodded to himself in satisfaction. He would enjoy seeing Simcoe swinging from the end of a rope. He fell into step beside Hewlett. 

“Make no mistake, Abraham.” Hewlett continued. “As a solider, I can stomach bloodshed, but I don’t invite it and I don’t welcome it. It’s always such a…” he trailed off for a moment in search of the right word. It came out as a ragged, heartfelt whisper. “…waste.” 

Abe clasped his hands behind his back. “We are fortunate that cooler and wiser heads prevailed. I don’t believe the Continentals wanted that fight any more than we did.”

Hewlett frowned in thought. “Then why did they come? They must have known, even if they could have dislodged us, they could have never held the town. Gunships would have come to blast them and the town into oblivion. What purpose would that serve?”

“Perhaps it was personal, Sir,” Abe suggested carefully. “Ben Tallmadge came for his father and the other conspirators have family in the rebel ranks.”

Hewlett sighed. “That makes as much sense as anything else.” He paused and briefly touched Abe’s arm. “My aide briefed me on how you came here in the middle of night like refugees. I was dreadfully sorry to hear about your house. Thankfully, you and your family were unharmed.”

“I’m sorry about Ensign Baker,” Abe blurted out. He swallowed heavily. “He did what he could. He didn’t back down in the face of their weapons.”

“Yes, he was a fine soldier. I will put him in for a commendation.” Hewlett set his jaw. “He will not be a forgotten man.”

Abe followed Hewlett down the staircase to the main floor. “Did he have any family?”

“No. I believe he was an orphan.”

A burning smell assaulted their noses. Abe looked around and sniffed the air. “That’s coming from the kitchen.”

Hewlett did the same. He wrinkled his nose. “Perhaps, Aberdeen had a cooking mishap.”

“That would be a first,” Abe replied with a frown. He led the way this time, through the dining room to the kitchen. He didn’t see anything except the smoking pans on the stove. He rushed to turn everything off. “Where did she go?”

Hewlett looked around the kitchen. “Or any of the other servants.”

Flames jumped up from one of the pans. Abe smothered it with a lid. “I think this used to be eggs. What is going on here?”

“And why hasn’t anyone else noticed the odor and come to investigate?” Hewlett started towards the front of the house. “Surely, the sentries out front could smell this.”

Abe didn’t have time to react before a big blur rushed in from the back door and knocked him in the face with the butt end of a musket. He landed on his back. It knocked the wind out of him and he hit the back of his head.

Hewlett backed into the kitchen, the barrel of a musket following. He held his hands up. His voice was calm and reasonable. “Now, there’s no need for violence.”

Abe blinked. It took a moment for his vision to clear. A musket barrel tapped him in the chest. His eyes got wide. “Simcoe.”


	6. “I have to do what’s right. If you cannot support me, please don’t condemn me.”

Charged silence filled the bedroom after the shouting. They were both tense, red faced, and breathing hard. They stood close enough together to smell the brandy on each other’s breath.

Richard finally looked away, but it wasn’t a gesture of surrender. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Why did you bother coming here tonight?” he asked wearily. “Why climb through my window at all?”

Caleb’s hands were clenched so tightly into fists that they hurt. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His voice was still tight. “I didn’t want to leave tomorrow without a word.”

“You’ve had your word,” Richard replied tersely and stepped back. “You can just climb back out again.”

Caleb followed. He grabbed Richard’s arm. “Please understand,” he hissed desperately. “I have to go.”

Richard held Caleb’s gaze for a long moment. He managed a small, wry smile. Then he rested his forehead against Caleb’s. “Oh, my reckless one,” he said softly, fondly. “You think it will be so easy, but you’ve never seen a war. I have.” He paused and sighed heavily. “It will change you and you will see horrifying things. You will see men die in a mess of blood and hear them scream for death. You will do things that you never thought yourself capable of. Please, turn from that path.” 

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. He leaned even closer to Richard. “I have to try,” he maintained stubbornly. “This is something worth fighting for.”

“You need more than ideals to win a war,” Richard retorted, but there was no heat in it, only a tired hope. “We can’t stand up to the full combined might of the English war beast. They put down revolts all through the Empire all of the time. You know what happens to traitors. I don’t want to see you killed.”

“We can win.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“We have right.”

Richard chuckled. “Now, you sound like Nathaniel.”

Caleb snickered under his breath. “The Reverend is a learned man. He has an experience of war and he thinks we can win.”

Richard cupped the side of Caleb’s neck with his free hand. “He does not like to admit this, but he would have met the wrong end of a French bayonet if I had not gone back for him. He was even more hot tempered and reckless back then. I’m not certain his counsel is the best in this case.”

Caleb ran his hand up Richard’s arm to his shoulder. “I have to do what’s right. If you cannot support me, please don’t condemn me.”

Richard’s shoulders slumped. “Very well,” he sighed. “Do what you must as shall I. I only hope you can live with the consequences.”

“That’s high-minded of you,” Caleb murmured and nipped at Richard’s bottom lip.

“No,” Richard grunted although he made no move to put any distance between them.

“Your Honor,” Caleb whispered hotly. He drew it out, long and low.

Richard’s breath hitched the way it always did when Caleb said those two small words in that tone of voice. “Incorrigible.”

“Are you going to punish me?” Caleb trailed his lips along Richard’s jaw. He suddenly crowded Richard against the nearest wall. “Your Honor.”

Richard grabbed Caleb’s hips and pulled Caleb flush against him. He tilted his head back to expose his throat to Caleb’s talented mouth. His hands slid around to cup Caleb’s behind.

Caleb moaned. He captured Richard’s lips in an intense kiss. He started rocking against Richard’s thigh.

“Hey,” a voice interrupted good naturedly.

Caleb groaned. “Go away.”

“Come on. Wake up.”

Caleb blinked. He was wrapped up in a blanket on the ground. The early morning sun hurt his eyes. He let out an unintelligible noise and buried his face in the blanket. 

Nathaniel and Ben were crouched around a low fire. They shared a laugh as Ben poured a third cup of coffee. Ben nudged Caleb’s shoulder. “Coffee.”

Caleb propped himself up on one elbow and took the cup. His scowl didn’t reach his eyes. “This is the only reason I’m letting you live right now.”

Ben grinned. “I know. Thank you for your forbearance.”

“Major,” a voice called.

Ben patted Caleb’s shoulder. “We have to get ready to move out soon.” He offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll place the cross before we go.” Then he bounced up to his feet and headed in the direction of the voice.

Nathaniel moved to Caleb’s side. He sat with his back propped up against the log. “You all right?”

Caleb found the cross wrapped in the blanket with him. His smile was bittersweet but it was still there. “Yes. I think I am. I’m still angry, but…” his voice trailed off.

“I understand.” Nathaniel sipped his coffee. “You seem in better spirits this morning,” he remarked blandly.

Caleb sipped his coffee too. He matched Nathaniel’s tone. “I have no idea what you mean, Reverend.”


	7. "Good morning, Farmer Woodhull," he drawled, venomously sweet.

Simcoe stood over Abe, pointing his musket down at him. He was without the traditional wig. He wore mottled green and brown clothes, more in the fashion of one of Rogers’ Rangers than a Captain in the King’s Army. He bared his teeth in a predatory smile. “Good morning, Farmer Woodhull,” he drawled, venomously sweet. 

Abe licked the blood from his bottom lip. He defiantly met Simcoe’s gaze.

Simcoe’s companion held himself upright like a solider, but was dressed the same with a blue beret to complete the look. He appeared more comfortable in such wear than Simcoe. He motioned for Hewlett to take a seat at the kitchen table. He leaned against the wall in a stance of casual alertness.

Simcoe poked Abe in the chest again with the musket barrel. He gasped in mock outrage. “Are you not pleased to see me?”

“I’m as pleased to see you as maggots infesting my crop,” Abe spit back.

Simcoe tsked and smirked.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hewlett demanded. He turned his disdainful gaze from Simcoe to Simcoe’s companion. “Sergeant Kale, I expected better of you.”

Kale shrugged, completely unaffected by Hewlett’s scorn. “I’m doing what is necessary, Sir.”

Hewlett’s voice wasn’t overly threatening. He spoke as if just relating unpalatable facts. “You men will hang for this.”

Simcoe didn’t bat an eye. He didn’t take his gaze from Abe. “Shut it, Major, or I will gag you,” he said smoothly. “I sill have the strap and handkerchief you used on me.”

Abe pushed the barrel of the musket away. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you miles away?”

Simcoe grinned savagely. He shouldered his musket, leaned down to grab Abe’s shirt, and yanked him up to his feet. “As if I would run like a dog with his tail between his legs,” he sneered. He leaned in close to Abe’s ear. “I must say that you have a very pretty wife and an adorable son. He favors her.”

Abe shoved Simcoe. “Where are they?”

“Safe enough with the rest of the household, tied securely in the cellar. Don’t worry. We didn’t hang them from a beam. I do have a heart.” Simcoe laughed. “Mrs. Woodhull and Mrs. Strong. Two fine women. What do they see in you? All I see is a failure, a scared boy who cannot live up to his father or the ghost of his elder brother.”

Abe bit his tongue. He clenched his hands into fists. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He stared at the floor, just trying to breathe.

Simcoe’s eyes flashed. He slipped the musket off his shoulder and set it against the wall. Then he held his arms up in a defensive stance. He waved at Abe to come at him. “Come on. Come at me. I know that you want to.”

“Abraham, don’t,” Hewlett interrupted, soft but firm. 

Simcoe snorted. “I said shut it, Oyster Major. I will not tell you again.” He stroked his chin and regarded Abe as he would an insect. “Perhaps, I will have both of them before this is finished. Mary and Anna. How would you like a bastard raised alongside your boy? That bastard would still have better blood in his veins.”

Abe charged Simcoe. “Bastard!”

Simcoe produced a hunting knife from a sheath hidden behind his back. He stepped to the side. He used Abe’s momentum to spin him around. He held Abe’s arm behind his back and reached around to hold the blade against his throat. “Temper. Temper,” he sing-songed. “A failed farmer. A failed magistrate. And now a failed fighter. You must have some hidden talent. Then again, God has cursed this world with many useless men. Have you ever asked yourself why you are still here while dear elder brother is not?”

Abe grunted. He only struggled for a second more. He held his free hand up and away from him in a sign of surrender.

Simcoe leaned in close to Abe’s ear again. “I did regret not killing you in our duel. I let Mrs. Strong dissuade me. I should never have given into a woman. However, I can admit that this is much more fun.” 

“Time, Simcoe,” Kale drawled, as if bored by the entire proceeding.

“Killjoy.”

“Madman,” Kale retorted easily.

Simcoe snickered. He yanked Abe’s arm behind him tighter and Abe couldn’t suppress a hiss of pain. “Now,” he continued. “You are going to follow my instructions to the letter or the first one shot will be your son, followed shortly by your wife. Do I have your word that you will behave?”

“Yes,” Abe croaked.

Simcoe let Abe go and gave him a slight shove away from him. “Good.” He put his knife away and sat down across the table from Hewlett. He smiled brightly. “Now, this is very simple, Farmer Woodhull. All I need you to do is go upstairs and get your father ready to travel with us.”

Abe’s voice cracked. “He can’t.”

Simcoe regarded his nails and frowned at the dirt under them. He sighed. “He was well enough to insert himself in the seige yesterday.” He waved a hand in Hewlett’s direction. “He was well enough to convince the Oyster Major here to let the prisoners go. So, he’s well enough to travel.” 

“But--”

Simcoe looked up at Abe as if Abe was an obstinate child. “Have you forgotten your wife and son already? Go on. Kale will go with you should you need any help. It’s not that I don’t respect your word…” He paused. He tilted his head to the side. “No, I don’t respect your word.”

Abe swallowed. “Can’t you take me instead?”

“No.” Simcoe shooed him away. “Shoo, boy.”


	8. "I will come back."

Richard was awake when he should have been sated and dead to the world like Caleb. He lay, relaxed and still, in the dark. Caleb was sprawled half on top of him, face buried in his neck, arm thrown over his chest, and a leg in between his.

Richard absently ran a hand up and down Caleb’s spine. He suddenly remembered that his Colleen had always preferred to sleep pressed against him as well. She would always complain of being cold if he wasn’t there. She would tuck her head under his chin. So many years and he could still remember the smell and feel of her and her hair tickling his nose.

Coupled with the gender difference, Colleen was barely five foot tall and slender, while Caleb was broad through his chest and shoulders and more of a match to Richard’s five feet, ten inches. She had long red hair and fair skin while Caleb was all dark hair and olive complexion. She had bright green eyes while Caleb’s were brown.

Richard vividly remembered the first time he saw her coming off the boat from Ireland. She wore man’s clothes and a pistol in her belt. Her hair was in a braid all the way down her back. The red glinted in the sun.

She’d stuck her chin out at all the people gaping at her on the dock. Her Irish lilt was strong. “I had to pay my passage with work and we had to fight off pirates more than once. I defy anyone to try that wearing a dress.”

And when Richard actually stopped to think about it, he couldn’t blame her. His mother was scandalized by such behavior but he found her fascinating from the first. Colleen never stopped surprising him or challenging him. Even the last illness that sapped her strength never robbed her of her spark. She slipped away while she was in her favorite position, pressed against him and head under his chin.

He was told by many family and friends to remarry after she died. He was too young to stay a widower and his sons needed a mother. However, he could never bring himself to stop looking at another woman, comparing her to Colleen, and finding her lacking. The fault lay entirely with him and he could live with it.

Years passed and then Caleb of all people started pursuing him. It was the only time he could ever remember Caleb practicing subtlety. Hence, he was able to ignore it until Caleb grew tired of the game because he could not quite bring himself to confront Caleb to make him stop.

One night, he found Caleb in his bed. He should have turned and walked away. He didn’t turn away and, as much as he felt like he should, he didn’t regret it.

One would not think Caleb and Colleen had much in common. Caleb was a fun loving ruffian, who usually ran from responsibility. He showed no aptitude or interest in the family’s farm and there were rumors of him being involved in smuggling even before the war. 

Colleen may have been a hellion child, too, but she grew into a respected member of the community. Her voice carried weight in her own right although she would bow to Richard’s wishes in public (and give him hell for it at home if she deemed he deserved it). 

Caleb’s rough voice cut through the silence. “You should be too tired to brood. What are you thinking about?”

Richard smiled. “You.”

Caleb stretched againt Richard. His breath was warm against Richard’s skin. “That’s all right then.”

“And Colleen.” Richard felt Caleb tense. He rubbed Caleb’s back. “It just occurs to me that she would have liked the man you’ve become.”

Caleb immediately relaxed. “What’s not to like? When I was a boy, I thought she was a goddess with that flaming hair.”

Richard chuckled. “At times, she had the wrath of a goddess. The Celtic goddess Belisama come to life.”

“What was she the goddess of?”

“Lakes and rivers, fire, crafts and light.” 

“Not someone to cross then.”

“No. I think the boys were more afraid of her anger than mine.” Richard kissed the side of Caleb’s head. “Are you sure I cannot dissuade you from participating in this madness?” he murmured.

Caleb nuzzled the side of Richard’s neck. “I will come back.” 

Suddenly, Richard’s side was on fire. He woke with a start. He was panting and he was hot. He saw Abe’s anxious face hovering over him. “Abraham?”

Abe bit his lip. “Father.”

Richard blinked, trying to get his bearings. He took a deep breath against the pain. “What’s wrong?”

Abe glanced nervously from Richard, to the doorway, and back again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Richard reached up to cup Abe’s face. “Sorry about what?” 

Abe dropped his gaze. “Everything.”

“Be quick about it, Woodhull,” a gruff voice said from the hall.

“Yes, Sergeant Kale,” Abe called back hoarsely. He grabbed Richard’s wrist. He turned his face into Richard’s palm for a brief moment. His voice was low and urgent. “Simcoe escaped and came here. He wants to take you with him and he said he will shoot Mary and Thomas if we don’t cooperate.”

Richard didn’t hesitate. “Then you had best help me up.”

Abe helped Richard sit up. “I can’t imagine why he won’t take me when you will slow them down.”

Richard grit his teeth against the pain shooting through his side. He moved slowly to sit on the edge of the bed. “He harbors equal disdain for both of us. I showed Hewlett there was a way out besides an all out bloodbath yesterday. He did everything he could to precipitate more violence and he didn’t get his way. He strikes me as a man who usually gets what he wants.”

Kale stepped into the room. He stayed by the doorway and watched them. “That he does, Your Honor.”

Abe knelt in front of Richard. He pushed Richard’s hand out of the way to get a look at the bandage covering Richard’s wound. He glanced over his shoulder at Kale. “Let me see to this before you leave.”

Kale nodded crisply. “All right, but be quick about it.”


	9. "I don't think you wish to know what I have to say."

Simcoe watched Abe and Kale disappear. He turned his attention to Hewlett sitting across the table from him. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

Hewlett sat rigid. He faced straight ahead. He had his hands clasped in his lap.

Simcoe tilted his head to the side. He smirked. “Oh, Oyster Major.”

Hewlett completely ignored him.

Simcoe slammed a hand down on the table. “Hey!”

Hewlett didn’t jump. He didn’t face Simcoe. “As I recall, you told me to shut it. Twice,” he replied mildly.

“So, I did,” Since said more to himself than to Hewlett. “You may speak.”

Hewlett sighed as if bored. “I don’t think you wish to know what I have to say.”

“Oh, but I do. I want to hear you beg for your life.”

Hewlett snorted. “Then, you shall be disappointed. If you wish to engage me, I shall not hold back.”

Simcoe grinned savagely. “But what is to stop me from taking any anger at what you say out on you?”

It was Hewlett’s turn to study his nails. “Because you are the one seeking this confrontation and I would not think you would sink so low.”

“Very well,” Simcoe allowed. He waited but Hewlett still said nothing. He flung himself back in the chair. He dangled one arm off the back of it. His voice held the edge of a petulant child. “You could have avoided all of this if you had heeded me yesterday.”

“It was you who did not heed his commanding officer,” Hewlett responded in a flat, neutral voice. “I do not give credence to the opinions of insubordinate jackals.”

Simcoe jumped to his feet. He circled around to the table to stand before Hewlett. He bared his teeth. “You think you are so much better than me.”

Hewlett looked up at Simcoe with no trace of fear. He continued in that same maddeningly neutral voice. “I believe the different ways we have fulfilled our duties more than illustrates that point.”

Simcoe grew red in the face. “I wanted you to kill the enemy!”

“You killed an unarmed prisoner during a cessation of hostilities under a flag of truce.” Hewlett’s blood still boiled at the memory but he didn’t show it. He remained sitting still, his hands still in his lap. His eyes only gave away a spark of that anger. “You not only dishonored yourself, but your commanding officer and all of your comrades as well.”

Simcoe clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “You dishonored us all by displaying weakness in even considering the rebels’ offer. We are here to kill rebels, not coddle them!”

“My orders are to protect this town, not level it. You cannot seem to get this through your thick skull. Has the fog of war completely robbed you of your wits?”

Simcoe swallowed a bellow of rage. His hands twitched at his sides. “I…”

Hewlett continued in a conversational tone, “When you were first transferred to my command, I received a letter from your previous commander. He praised your experience and tenacity in battle. He said you have a tactical mind.”

“Major Lee knew how to treat rebels,” Simcoe snarled.

Hewlett didn’t react to the tone. “My question is what happened to that tactical mind.”

Simcoe took an instinctive step back from Hewlett. “I killed rebels, something that you don’t have the stomach for.”

“I marvel at your blatant stupidity.” Hewlett rolled his eyes. He looked on Simcoe disdainfully. “When the rebels attacked yesterday, you secured the prisoners instead of our powder stores and I was forced to destroy the storehouse before the rebels could abscond with the powder. You hung one man without permission before I arrived. You handled the whole situation as a barbarian would. I suppose you would have fit right in with the barbarian horde that sacked Rome and precipitated the Dark Ages.”

“I…” Simcoe had no idea when or how he lost control of this conversation.

“And what are you doing here?” Hewlett continued, ruthless and efficient. He didn’t have to change his tone for it to cut through Simcoe and his bravado. “Your companions saved you from the noose and you are all friendless. Both armies would be happy to execute you.” 

Simcoe swallowed. “We will have to be caught first. Escape is still possible.”

“I doubt it. You failed to use your time wisely. You could have been half way to Canada by now. You could have lost yourselves in the wilds. Of course, I would have tried to catch you, but you know as well as I do how thin our resources of men are.” 

Simcoe reached out by stopped just short of touching Hewlett, too many years of training rearing its ugly head. “I could not just run.”

“No. You come to a house not ten minutes ride from our main camp for a man who will only slow you down.”

Simcoe marched back to the wall where he’d left his musket. He picked it up. He returned to Hewlett and pointed it at him. He suddenly grinned madly again. “Don’t feel left out, Major. I came for you too and there will be no more words.”


	10. “Simcoe’s not worth your life."

The thought was niggling at the back of Caleb’s head the whole time. Through his one cup of coffee and apple, through Lucas’ simple funeral, and through packing up the camp, the thought stayed in his mind. Any sensible man would have ignored it. A sensible man would not press his luck.

He rode in silence next to Ben, the column of men on foot stretched out behind them. He smirked to himself. //Since when are you a sensible man? As Richard always says, you are a reckless man.// He swallowed a laugh. //He loves it.//

Caleb frowned. //He should never have been at that siege. Walking wounded. He probably made it worse. He’s supposed to be the responsible one. Stubborn. Aberdeen should have never let him out of her sight.//

Caleb shook his head to clear it. He took his hat off and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Hey, Ben.”

Ben glanced at Caleb. “Yes?”

Caleb fanned himself. “I think maybe I should go back,” he said a little too casually.

“Caleb,” Ben said in a warning tone.

Caleb titled his head up to the sunshine. He shut his eyes to enjoy its warmth on his face. “What?” he asked blandly.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. Setauket will be crawling with Redcoat reinforcements.”

“So?” Caleb asked carelessly.

Ben let out an exasperated huff. “So what happens if you’re captured? Washington won’t let me get away with attacking that garrison twice.”

“The General gave you discretion to act as you see fit. I wouldn’t worry about our little raid. He’ll appreciate the powder we appropriated and we got to see our old schoolhouse blown to pieces.” Caleb put his hat back on. He grinned at Ben and arched his eyebrows. “It’s a win-win.”

“Still.” Ben shook his head. “It’s not a good idea. The garrison will be on high alert.” 

Caleb’s grin didn’t falter. “The highly unlikely possibility of capture would be a problem if they actually knew to look for me.” He thumped Ben’s shoulder. “Come on. I know those woods better than any of them.”

Ben smiled wryly. “And there are some loyalists who know those woods as well as you do.”

“I just won’t let them see me.”

“It’s that simple?” Ben asked dryly.

Caleb smirked. “That simple.”

Ben turned his horse to the side of the trail and waved for Caleb to do the same. He watched the men file past them. He shook his head and one end of his mouth quirked up. He lowered his voice. “Why do you want to do this?”

Caleb matched Ben’s tone. “To make sure there truly is no suspicion on our Mr. Culper in the light of day.”

Ben leaned forward to pat his horse’s neck. “We made sure to keep his standing in the community intact,” he countered reasonably.

“It wouldn’t hurt to make sure that none of the Redcoats are looking at him funny.”

Ben straightened up. He stared at Caleb for a long moment. “Now, tell me the real reason.”

Caleb opened his mouth but nothing came out. He looked away. He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted uneasily in the saddle.

Ben reached over to touch Caleb’s shoulder. “Simcoe’s not worth your life,” he whispered earnestly.

Caleb’s whole body tensed. He jerked away from Ben’s touch. He glared venomously at his friend. “What?”

“It’s the only reason I can think of why you want to go back so soon.”

“You…I…” Caleb spluttered.

“Listen to me,” Ben hissed. He grabbed the reins of Caleb’s horse with one hand and Caleb’s arm with the other. “Your life. That’s what it would cost to get to Simcoe. He’s going to be under heavy guard.”

“I know that,” Caleb snapped.

Ben held Caleb’s gaze. “You’re a man, flesh and blood, the same as the rest of us. You’re not some avenging angel. A bullet will stop you and he’s not worth it.” 

Caleb grabbed the lapel of Ben’s uniform coat. He almost pulled Ben out of the saddle. “I know that. Do you think I’m daft?” he whispered, low and intent. “Do you really think I’d jeopardize everything we’ve worked for just for the pleasure of killing that bastard myself?”

They were both panting and red faced. “Do I have your word that you won’t try to go through the entire garrison just to get to him?” Ben asked.

Caleb didn’t blink. “Yes,” he answered solemnly.

Ben stared at Caleb for a moment longer before he let go. He eased away from Caleb. He looked away and ran a hand over his hair.

Caleb looked around at the sky, at the trees, and the men marching past while they both composed themselves. He took a swig from his canteen. Then he offered it to Ben. “Peace offering.”

“Thanks.” Ben took it gratefully. He took a drink and immediately started coughing. “Caleb,” he croaked.

Caleb snatched it back. He took one last drink and put it away. He couldn’t suppress his smirk. “What? It’s only rum.”

Ben laughed quietly but regarded Caleb seriously. “You really think it’s a good idea?”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then go. Just be careful.”

“I will. And no one man against an entire garrison.” Caleb crossed his heart. “I promise.” He bared his teeth. “But I will say that if we ever cross paths again, I will gut him like a fish.”


	11. "My, we are eager to disappear into the labyrinth with the Madman and his cohorts."

Abe was still on his knees in front of Richard. He had his head down. “I can rush him,” he muttered, barely loud enough for Richard to hear.

Richard squeezed Abe’s shoulder. He barely shook his head once. “You are aware that I cannot ride, Sergeant.”

Kale was leaning against the doorframe with that same casual alertness. He watched them with the sharp eyes of a predator. “You will not have to, Your Honor. We have the wagon ready.”

“It would be easier if you just took me,” Abe growled.

“I couldn’t care less, but Simcoe doesn’t want you and I can see why.”

“I don’t see why.”

Kale smirked. “It bothers you much more this way. He knows that it’s eating at you that you can’t protect dear old dad. If I was you, I would work on controlling my temper. Many will use it against you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Abe spit out. He looked up at Richard desperately and grit out, “Please.”

Richard gave a small smile and whispered, “It’ll be all right.”

Kale laughed but there was no humor in it. “My, we are eager to disappear into the labyrinth with the Madman and his cohorts. Be careful. We’re more dangerous than any Minotaur and I see no Theseus in you.”

Abe glared over his shoulder. “This isn’t funny.”

Kale just laughed some more. “It is, but I’m not surprised that you can’t see the humor in it.”

Abe would’ve sprung up and charged Kale if not for Richard squeezing his shoulder again. Richard cleared his throat. “You are an educated man.”

Kale shrugged. “In some things,” he drawled. “I know how to fight. I know how to kill. And I know the ancient stories. My father, God spit on his soul, loved them. He was a drunken bastard who beat my mother, my sister, and me, but he could spin a yarn with the best of ‘em.” 

“That’s terrible.”

Kale waved that off. “The old bastard was what he was and he made no apologies.” He paused and his eyes lit up. “It was one of the best days of my life when he fell out of that window and broke his neck. It made a satisfying crunching noise. It was wet and disgusting and I’ll treasure it forever.”

“Did you push him?” Abe sneered.

Kale bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Maybe I did or maybe he was just drunk and lost his balance. Either way, my sister didn’t have to marry a man three times her age.”

“So, you did it for her.”

“I didn’t have to. Liz is no cowering wallflower. The old lecher still tried to claim her as his bride so she showed him how we used to castrate hogs.” Kale snapped his fingers. “He disappeared in a puff of smoke.” 

“Charming,” Abe said sourly.

“She is.” Kale snickered. “She’d eat you alive.” He pushed away from the doorframe. “As much as I am enjoying this little chat, it’s time to get moving.”

Before Abe could reply, Richard nodded. “Help me up, Abraham.”

Abe nodded reluctantly and stood. He gently helped Richard to his feet. “Careful.”

Richard set his jaw. He didn’t make a sound in pain. He put a hand on Abe’s shoulder.

Kale motioned for them to walk ahead of him. “Let’s go.”

They moved slow and steady down the hall. It didn’t take long for Richard to start panting with the effort. He held onto Abe and the railing to negotiate the stairs.

Hewlett’s voice, low and intent but supremely controlled, carried up to them. “I doubt it. You failed to use your time wisely. You could have been half way to Canada by now. You could have lost yourselves in the wilds. Of course, I would have tried to catch you, but you know as well as I do how thin our resources of men are.” 

“Stop,” Kale whispered.

They listened to Simcoe sputter in response. “I could not just run.”

Hewlett was unimpressed and it was obvious in his tone. “No. You come to a house not ten minutes ride from our main camp for a man who will only slow you down.”

There was a brief pause. “Don’t feel left out, Major,” Simcoe said with savage glee. “I came for you too and there will be no more words.”

Richard squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to catch his breath. “That’s the man you’re following.”

Kale grunted. “He ain’t so bad.”

“He’ll get you all killed,” Abe growled.

“Move it.”

They came to the bottom of the steps. Richard sighed in relief. He didn’t let go of Abe.

“Father?” Abe asked quietly.

Richard sighed heavily. “I’m all right.”

Simcoe prodded Hewlett through the dining room at musket point. “Are you going to shoot me?” Hewlett asked.

“Not yet,” Simcoe answered smoothly. He grinned at Kale. “Good, you’re ready.” He turned his attention to Richard. He looked him up and down. “Hello, Your Honor,” he crowed.

“Captain,” Richard returned wearily.

Simcoe poked Hewlett in the back. “Kale, take our traveling companions outside. I shall be along in a moment. I need a word with Farmer Woodhull.”

“Wait,” Abe tried.

Simcoe rolled his eyes. “Do try to be less obstinate.”

Hewlett took Abe’s place at Richard’s side. He wrapped an arm around Richard’s waist. “Come on, old friend.”

Abe frowned. “Look after him.”

Hewlett inclined his head. “I will.”

Simcoe waited until Kale disappeared with their prisoners. He favored Abe with a venomous smile. “If I see or smell you, I shoot your father. And I’ll make sure you see it, just like Lucas Brewster.”

Abe clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can,” Simcoe answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he swiftly knocked Abe in the face with the butt end of his musket. He was satisfied to see Abe drop like a stone. He gave the unconscious man a swift kick. “What a question.”


	12. “Don’t poke the Madman, Jenkins. He might slit your throat in your sleep.”

“What if someone sees us? What if someone recognizes us?” Jenkins whined for the fourth or fifth time. The others had lost count. He had the reins of the horses pulling the covered wagon with Obie riding shot gun next to him. The two prisoners sat in the back with the supplies they’d taken from Richard’s house. Simcoe and Kale were on horseback.

Simcoe snorted. “Someone silence him before I have to.” He kicked his horse impatiently to scout ahead.

“Don’t poke the Madman, Jenkins. He might slit your throat in your sleep,” Kale drawled.

Jenkins rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that thought.”

“Just keep your bloody mouth shut and maybe he’ll forget how annoying you are.” Kale brought his horse alongside Obie. “And anyone who recognizes us won’t make it back to turn us in,” he added matter-of-factly.

“That’s comforting,” Jenkins replied sarcastically. “More bodies to add to the list. At least they can’t hang us more than once.”

Kale arched an eyebrow. “Are you losing your nerve?”

“No,” Jenkins grumbled. “I just don’t understand why we’re not a hard day’s ride from here already.”

Obie was barely over sixteen, on his first campaign. He had the same color eyes as his cousin but they displayed warmth and a certain reckless abandon that could only be found in someone so young. His blonde hair was so light to almost be white. His musket was propped up next to him within easy reach. He elbowed Jenkins lightly. “Stop worrying. The colonists never look at our faces, only the uniform. All they see are the lobster backs. They won’t pay any attention to us dressed like this.”

“They’ll notice strangers,” Jenkins retorted. He cocked his thumb back. “And what if someone sees that lobster back?”

“No one is going to get close enough to see in there.”

“That’s the Major,” Jenkins hissed as if the other two were particularly dense.

Obie gasped. “Is it?” he teased. “I had no idea.”

Kale laughed, while Jenkins elbowed Obie back, hard. “And everyone in town knows Judge Woodhull,” Jenkins growled. “This is a bad plan.”

Kale still looked on Jenkins with condescending amusement. He made his voice slow and patient, as if dealing with the village idiot. “No one knows about our two guests yet so people aren’t out looking. We know the patrol patterns of the garrison. We can easily avoid them. And if all else fails, those two will be good hostages, especially His Honor. Didn’t you notice how most of those sheep follow him?”

Suddenly, they heard two shots. Obie had his musket up at the ready in the few seconds it took for Jenkins to stop the wagon. Kale drew his pistol.

Obie looked around. “Do you think the rebels didn’t really leave?” he asked Kale.

Kale shook his head. “A battle is more than two shots.”

Jenkins bit his lip. “We need to get out of here.”

Kale didn’t have to lower his weapon to glare at Jenkins. “Keep your nerve.”

Jenkins looked mutinous for a moment longer before he deflated under Kale’s stare. He sighed heavily. “But, Sarge.”

“Stand down,” Simcoe ordered as he trotted back to them. “No one has asked you to like this, Jenkins,” he said sharply. “Be quiet and do as you’re told.” 

Jenkins simply averted his eyes and nodded.

Simcoe smiled coldly. “Good lad. I will admit that you have got me thinking that we should do something about the Oyster Major’s spotless uniform.” He pointed. “There’s a farmhouse just up the road. We should find something suitable there.”

“What about the residents of said farmhouse?” Obie asked while Kale just looked at him knowingly.

Simcoe waved dismissively. “I’ve already taken care of them.”

Two minutes later, they rode up to the house. It was a small one story with a front porch just big enough for a swing. There was a small field and a line of laundry to one side of the house.

Obie pointed to the body on the porch. “There’s the mister.”

Simcoe dismounted. “And the missus is just inside.”

Kale did the same. “What about children?”

“I didn’t hear or see any.”

Kale climbed the porch steps and stepped over the man’s body without so much as a glance. “I’ll check the house to make sure.”

Simcoe started towards the line of hanging laundry. “Bring me the Major.”

Obie nodded and hopped down. He circled to the end of the wagon. He opened the back tail gate. He bowed and spread an arm out. “If you would please, Sir,” he drawled with a cheeky grin.

Hewlett eased away from where he’d been letting Richard lean against him to absorb some of the shock from the jostling journey. He jumped to the ground. He frowned at the sight of the body on the porch. “I’m sure that wasn’t necessary. I don’t see a weapon.”

Obie shrugged. “Just his time I guess.”

Simcoe waved impatiently. “Over here.”

Obie nudged Hewlett with his musket. “You heard the man.”

Jenkins waited till they were out of earshot. He pretended to just be looking around and asked lowly, “You know them. Do they have children?”

“No,” Richard hissed from behind him. “Does that make it better?”

Jenkins didn’t answer. He just faced forward again. He saw the others but didn’t watch them.

By this time, Hewlett stood a couple feet from Simcoe with Obie standing guard just a few feet behind him. Hewlett scowled. “You murdered another unarmed man and a defenseless woman. Well done.”

“Two less rebels,” Simcoe answered dismissively. He looked Hewlett up and down with a critical eye.

“You don’t know that. The majority of these people have proven themselves loyal.”

Simcoe waved that off. “It’s only a matter of time.” He stepped up to Hewlett. “Now, let’s see. First we lose the hat,” he said and knocked it off Hewlett’s head. “And the wig.”

Hewlett swiftly reached for it “I shall do that myself.”

Simcoe grinned. “Very well.”

Hewlett eased his wig off only to have Simcoe snatch it from him and toss it aside. He ran a hand through his close cropped black hair. “You truly are turning into a savage.”

Simcoe grinned wider and bared all his teeth. “I think it’s this land and I’m beginning to like it.”

Kale stepped back out onto the porch. He leaned forward on the railing and watched them. “The rest of the house is clear, but we should still get moving.”

“We’ll set fire to it before we leave. Let them deal with that.” Simcoe snatched a coarse brown cloak off the line. It was a simple, heavy garment with a hole for the wearer’s head. He tossed it to Hewlett. “If you would be so kind as to indulge me, Major. I believe this will suit you.”

Hewlett slipped it on over his uniform. The lower part of his white uniform pants and his shiney black boots were still visible. His bearing was still military and erect and he never took his gaze from Simcoe’s.

Simcoe hesitated for only a split second before he grabbed Hewlett’s shoulder. He pushed Hewlett into the nearby field. He shoved Hewlett down into the dirt. He put a boot to Hewlett’s back. He looked over his shoulder at Kale and Obie and barked out a laugh. “There. That’s what a dirt poor farmer looks like.”

Hewlett climbed to his hands and knees. He saw Simcoe’s distraction and lunged at him without making a sound. He tackled Simcoe to the ground. He dropped his weight on on Simcoe’s chest and got one punch in before he felt the rifle barrel pressed to the back of his neck.

“That’s enough, Sir,” Obie growled.

Hewlett held his hands up slowly while Simcoe just licked the blood off his bottom lip and laughed.

“Now, get off of him.”

Hewlett climbed off Simcoe and got to his feet. He kept his hands up. He was covered in dirt. He was breathing hard and red in the face but he said nothing.

Simcoe was still laughing as he scrambled to his feet. “I wasn’t sure you had that in you,” he said and punched Hewlett in the face. “But try that again and you’ll wish that you hadn’t.” He grabbed Hewlett’s arm and looked around. “Now, where’s the pigsty?”

Obie’s eyes got wide. “Do you have to? If he's in the wagon I'll have to smell him.”

Kale straightened up. “No, Madman. We have to go and we’re not always going to be down wind.”


	13. “I’ll find them. They can’t hide from me.”

Caleb avoided Anna’s barn. He didn’t care to rehash why he and Ben didn’t tell her that Selah was alive. He didn’t want to tell her that it was need to know when he didn’t particularly agree with that policy. There were lots of things he didn’t agree with but he was too low on the totem pole to complain.

Instead, he headed straight to Whitehall, to Richard’s house. He knew that he couldn’t sneak in during the day but there were plenty of stout trees to lounge in for a few hours. He could enjoy another apple, some bread, and a drop of rum in peace. Maybe, he could even catch a nap.

There was a specific tree that he, Abe, Ben, and Anna used to climb as children. The knots in the wood made a perfect ladder and all of the branches were as thick as a man’s fist at the very least. It seemed gigantic back then and it was still large now. He perched on a limb, rested his back against the stout trunk, and pulled out his spyglass to scan the house.

The first thing that struck him was the lack of sentries flanking the front door. He frowned. He didn’t see them anywhere around the house. There were no shouts or other noises of a disturbance that would’ve drawn their attention. “Why did they abandon their posts? The Major isn’t going to like that.”

“And where’s Aberdeen?” he muttered. She wasn’t outside, hanging the washing or beating a rug. He supposed she could have been occupied in taking care of Richard, but where were the other servants?

From what he could see through the windows, there was no movement inside. He had a bad feeling in his gut. He watched the house for another ten minutes and there were no signs of life.

Caleb swiftly climbed down from the tree. He took a moment to just listen but there was nothing besides his own breathing, the wind, and the squirrels and birds in the trees. He looked around one last time before he broke cover and ran full speed to the house. He took the porch steps two at a time and stopped at the front door. He pulled his pistol out and cautiously tried the door handle.

It was unlocked and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He pushed it open a crack and peered through. He couldn’t see anything besides the empty foyer. He still didn’t hear anything. He held his pistol at the ready and nudged the door the rest of the way open with his foot.

He stepped inside and that’s when he saw Abe on the floor at the base of the steps. “Blast,” he cursed under his breath. He stood over Abe just long enough to see that Abe was breathing before he checked the rest the main floor. 

The burnt scent lingered in the kitchen, but there was no one to be seen. The dining room and main rooms were also empty. He stepped over Abe and cautiously, but quickly, climbed the stairs to check the second floor.

He found the bed unmade and used, bloody bandages on the floor in Richard’s bedroom. However, there was no sign of the man himself anywhere. “Where are you…” he growled. “…and who do I have to kill?”

Caleb thundered back down the steps. He put his pistol away as he crouched next to Abe. He got a good look at the bruise forming on the side of Abe’s head and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that there wasn’t any blood. He gently shook Abe’s shoulder. “Hey, boy-o.”

Abe just groaned softly.

“Come on,” Caleb coaxed. “Come back to the land of the living.”

Abe groaned and his eyes opened a slit. “Caleb, is that you?”

Caleb flashed his trademark crooked grin. “Aye.”

Abe blinked. His eyes were unfocused and he struggled to sit up. “I feel like my head is going to split open.”

Caleb helped Abe to sit up and kept a hand on his back “Take a moment to breathe and get your bearings.”

Abe squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his skull. He jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“The more important question is what happened here?”

“Simcoe!” Abe shouted suddenly and tried to get up too fast.

Caleb swallowed the snarl that wanted to escape at the mention of that devil. He grabbed Abe just as his legs went out from under him. “Slowly. You took quite a knock to the head.” He took one of Abe’s arms across his shoulders and wrapped his own arm around Abe’s waist. He helped Abe to the couch in the main room. “I thought Simcoe was under arrest.”

Abe’s shoulders slumped. He sat forward, resting his hands on his knees. He sighed heavily. “He was, but a few of his men didn’t want to see him hang. They got him out of the cellar at the tavern.”

Caleb went to the corner and the small stand with a bottle of brandy sitting on top. He poured a glass and brought it back to Abe. “And instead of running, they came here.”

Abe finished the glass in two quick gulps. “They were here when I woke this morning. I knew something was wrong the minute we came downstairs. Aberdeen has never burned a meal in her life.”

Caleb sat next to Abe. “Where is she? I didn’t see her, any of the servants, or the sentries.”

Abe tried to stand again. “In the cellar. Mary and Thomas are supposed to be with them. At least that’s what Simcoe said.”

Abe swayed and Caleb pulled him back down. “If they were dead, we would know it.”

“What do you mean?” Abe snapped.

“There would be a smell,” Caleb answered matter-of-factly.

Abe’s shoulders slumped again. “I didn’t think of that, but you’re right.” 

“They’ll keep five more minutes,” Caleb said reasonably. He stared at Abe intently. “What did Simcoe want here?”

Abe’s face drained of color. “Father and Major Hewlett.” 

Again, Caleb had to swallow his immediate gut reaction and just breathe. He pursed his lips in thought. “I can see why he may want Major Hewlett, but why your father? An injured man who can’t ride and a loyalist to boot. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Simcoe views all colonists as potential rebels and Father was the one who got Hewlett to release the prisoners yesterday. Plus, he can hurt me through Father.” Abe shook his head. “The look in that man’s eyes. I think he’s mad.”

Caleb clenched his hands into fists. He snorted. “You say that like it’s news.”

Abe clutched Caleb’s arm. “No. Worse. I don’t think he cares whether he lives or dies as long as he makes us pay.” He swallowed heavily. “He said that if he sees me, he’ll execute Father and make sure I see it, just like…”

“Like Uncle Lucas,” Caleb finished sourly. He jumped up. “I’ll find them. They can’t hide from me.”

“I have to check on my family, but if you wait, I’ll go with you.”

Caleb shook his head. “I’m sure whoever is in charge of the garrison in Hewlett’s absence is going to want to talk to you. The Judge’s son can’t just disappear. I’ll move faster on my own.”

Abe stood slowly. “Bring him home, Caleb. Please.”

“I will,” Caleb said solemnly. “You’ve got my word on it.”


	14. “I call it bloodthirsty.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. He sat still, just trying to breathe, but it hurt. Two more of his friends were dead. This whole war was such a heart-wrenching waste. He had always been a man that could see all sides of a conflict but, at that moment, he didn’t give a damn about any of the reasons.

The loud voices were just a buzz in his head. His side was throbbing. He was hot and the sweat clung to his skin.

“Climb aboard, Sir,” a voice sneered.

That could’ve been Kale or Obie. He wasn’t sure. His mind just registered the smell of smoke as Hewlett climbed back into the wagon with him. He swallowed heavily. He didn’t open his eyes.

“Richard,” Hewlett asked in concern.

Richard opened his eyes to find Hewlett kneeling in front of him. He blinked and it took him a moment to find his voice. “Without your wig and a split lip.”

Hewlett ran a hand self consciously through his short hair. He smiled sheepishly. “Captain Simcoe’s idea.”

“As I’m sure the cloak was.”

Hewlett frowned down at his appearance. “And the dirt,” he added dryly. “We are fortunate that his comrades refused to allow him to toss me into the pig sty.” He snorted. “Because they won’t always been down wind.”

Richard managed a small smile. “Thank the Lord for small mercies.”

Hewlett wrinkled his nose. He lowered his voice so only Richard could hear. “I abhor appearing in such a disheveled state.”

Richard chuckled and then winced. He shifted uneasily but couldn’t find a comfortable position. “I would never have guessed.” He hissed in pain. “Did they put Daniel and Elizabeth’s house to the torch.”

“I’m afraid so,” Hewlett answered solemnly.

“They were good people.”

“I’m sure they were.” Hewlett shook his head. “At least they didn’t suffer. Simcoe can be very efficient.”

Richard bared his teeth. “I call it bloodthirsty.”

Hewlett grimaced. “Quite. I’m sorry.” 

Richard sighed heavily. Wet coughing bubbled up from his chest. “Not your fault.”

Hewlett didn’t hesitate to poke Jenkins’ shoulder. “A canteen would be very much appreciated.”

Jenkins stiffened. However, he handed a canteen back without a word.

Hewlett eased next to Richard on his good side. He sat close enough for Richard to lean against him. He handed him the canteen. “A little bit. Slowly, Richard.”

Richard’s hand shook but he managed to take a sip without spilling any. He handed the canteen back to Hewlett. He put his head back and shut his eyes.

Hewlett took a drink. “How are you doing?” he whispered.

Richard grunted. “It hurts.”

“I should check your wound to see if you’ve bled through the dressing again”

“It’s fine for the moment.”

“Let’s go,” Simcoe barked from outside.

The wagon started forward with a jerk and they resumed the journey over uneven ground. Richard bit his lip. He clenched his hands into fists.

Hewlett grabbed Richard’s wrist. “Breathe, Richard,” he said softly, but firmly. “I know there is pain but you must breathe through it.”

Richard gasped. “Blast.”

Hewlett eased an arm around Richard’s shoulders and pulled Richard closer to help cushion against the jostling. “We will survive this, old friend.”

“Did…” It took a moment for Richard to get the words out. “Did I ever tell you that this is not the first time I’ve been shot?”

“Really?”

“In the last war against the French. I have a scar on my right shoulder to prove it.” 

“Save your strength, Richard,” Hewlett ordered quietly.

Richard’s voice shook through the pain. “And you know how I got it? Hauling Nathaniel to safety.”

“Really?”

“Another reason why he would never shoot me,” Richard mumbled just before he blacked out.


	15. “Because it’s time we go off road.”

They were on a deserted road with nothing but thick trees on either side. The sun was high in the sky and beat down directly upon them, but it still felt like a confining space. The smoke from the burning farmhouse was still visible in the distance when Simcoe signaled for them to stop. He dismounted. 

Jenkins held the reins of the horses in a white knuckle grip. He glanced nervously at the forest to either side of them. “Why have we stopped?”

Simcoe bared his teeth at Jenkins. “Because it’s time we go off road.”

“Off road? Where?”

Simcoe smiled coldly. “Stop asking so many questions.”

Jenkins’ shoulders slumped as he dropped his head. He bit his bottom lip. He held the reins even tighter if that was possible.

Kale easily dropped from his horse to the ground. “Don’t worry. It’s a safe enough place.”

“Where no one will think to look for us,” Obie put in brightly. He patted Jenkins’ shoulder.

Jenkins’ head shot up. “Why does everyone know of this place but me?”

Kale rolled his eyes. “Don’t be tiresome.”

Simcoe snickered. “I would listen to the good Sergeant.”

“Fine,” Jenkins replied petulantly.

“Good. I suppose we can spare a moment to rest.” Simcoe patted his horse’s neck. He produced two apples from his pocket. He gave one to his horse and savagely bit into the other. He crunched loudly with satisfaction. He patted the horse’s neck again. “You were so good when I shot those two rebels. There’s nothing skittish in you, is there my friend?” He raised his voice. “You breed them well, Your Honor.” He didn’t get a response, not that he was really expecting one.

Kale took two peaches out of his saddlebag. He tossed one to Obie. “Here, kid.”

Obie caught it with one hand. He grinned. “Thanks.” He took a big bite and the juice ran down his chin.

Jenkins folded his arms across his chest. His lip curled up into a sneer. “I didn’t think we had the time for a picnic.”

The other three just laughed at him. Obie wiped his chin with his sleeve and then nudged Jenkins. “We told you to grab some of that fresh fruit at the farm before we put everything to the torch. It’s a shame. Great peaches.”

Jenkins elbowed Obie back. “I don’t have any appetite.”

Simcoe swallowed. He waved the hand holding his half-eating apple. “Obie, you and Jenkins take the wagon onward, find a suitable place to burn it --”

“Burn it?” Jenkins squeaked. “Why?”

Kale rolled his eyes. He spoke slowly and carefully. “As another distraction and to throw them off our scent.”

Jenkins ducked his head to avoid Kale’s gaze. He rubbed his hands over his knees. “All right.”

“As I was saying,” Simcoe drawled sarcastically. “Burn the wagon and then meet us at the cabin.” He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Don’t worry, Jenkins. Obie knows where it is. And for God’s sake, don’t bumble along and leave a trail a blind man could follow.”

Obie grinned. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good boy.”

Jenkins kept his eyes downcast. He cocked his thumb over his shoulder. “What about them? The Judge can barely move.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Simcoe answered smoothly. He nodded to Kale. “Sergeant.”

Kale counted ten steps into the forest. He approached a tree with a large distinctive knot on the trunk. He stepped behind it, threw some brush out of the way, and pulled a travois into view.

Jenkins’ jaw dropped. “When did you have time to make that?”

Obie finished devouring his peach in three quick bites. He threw the pit to the side, grabbed his rifle, and jumped to the ground. He snickered at Jenkins and pointed at Kale. “Don’t you know he’s part vampire? He doesn’t sleep.”

Kale laughed and it was a hard sound. “Don’t give him any ideas, Obie. That idiot will believe you.”

Simcoe barked a harsh laugh. “To be fair, you don’t have a taste for garlic.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything and I stole it,” Kale told Jenkins. He looked to Simcoe. “I’ll attach it to my horse.”

“Very well,“ Simcoe said and approached the end of the wagon. “Ready, Oyster Major?” he called.

“Allow me to see to this wound or you will be down to one hostage,” Hewlett snapped, loud and clear.

“I’m feeling charitable,” Simcoe announced smugly. “You have ten minutes.”


	16. "He has the devil in him."

Abe and Mary sat side by side on the couch in the main room of the house. She cupped his face. She blinked back tears at the sight of the bruise on his head. “Abraham,” she whispered, horrified.

Abe gently took her wrists. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’m okay. Thank the Lord, you and Thomas are well.”

Mary’s bottom lip trembled. “That man. Simcoe’s eyes are mad. He has the devil in him.”

Abe lightly rested his forehead against hers. He stroked the skin over her pulse with his thumbs. “I won’t let him hurt you and Thomas again.”

“What about Father and Major Hewlett? What does he want with them?”

Abe swallowed. “I don’t know,” he hedged.

“Please, Abraham, no more lies,” Mary begged, barely above a whisper. “If there’s a reason why this is happening, I need to know.”

Abe’s gut twisted. “I don’t know if it’s anything more than revenge. Simcoe has demonstrated his hatred for us on more than one occasion, us for being colonists and the Major for being an honorable man.”

Mary pulled away just enough to see Abe’s face. She held his gaze. “How do we get them back before he kills them or Father succumbs to his injury? He’s pushed himself too much and has had no time to heal.”

“I know,” Abe said raggedly. “We have to have to faith.”

“In what? Why is the Lord testing us? Isn’t this war enough?”

It was Abe’s turn to hold her gaze. “That’s not what I mean,” he said carefully.

“What?” Mary started.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am. We will find them,” a crisp voice broke in confidently.

They looked to see the officer in his spotless uniform standing in the doorway. Abe cleared his throat but his voice was still hoarse. “Captain Yeager.”

Yeager was just over six feet tall with a broad chest and shoulders. He stood ramrod straight and projected nothing but control and confidence. His gray eyes gave nothing away. He inclined his head to Mary and repeated, “We will find them. I give you my word.”

Mary nodded shakily. She rose. “I should check to see if Aberdeen has convinced Thomas to eat something.”

“Try apples. They are his favorite.” Abe kissed both of her hands and then let her go.

Yeager stepped to the side to allow Mary to pass before he came into the room. He stood a few feet in front of Abe. “How is your head?” he asked dutifully.

Abe gingerly touched his wound. “I’ll live. What are you doing to find them?”

“I have our best trackers on it. They took a covered wagon and two horses and cannot move very fast with your father. We will catch up with them.”

“And then what?”

“We will take them,” Yeager stated.

Abe shook his head. “Simcoe will not surrender.”

Yeager’s inflection didn’t change. He spoke in the same measured, clipped tones as always. “I am well aware of that fact and I do not plan on taking him alive. He is nothing more than a mad dog. He needs to be put down.”

“I agree, but if you go charging in, he will kill the hostages.”

“That is a possibility,” Yeager agreed matter-of-factly.

Abe stood slowly and experienced only mild dizziness. He grit his teeth. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t go in expecting to lose their lives.”

Yeager inclined his head. “I will do everything in my power to save them, but their deaths are a possibility and you should be aware of that.”

“I’ve recently seen my father, Setauket’s chief magistrate, shot,” Abe growled. “I am fully aware of the worst case possible. You would do well to remember just who the hostages are. They are not expendable.”

“No one is,” Yeager said with quiet authority. “I apologize for giving that impression. I am endeavoring to be honest with you, Mr. Woodhull. I am hoping that we will not have to go charging in. It will depend on what we find when we catch up with them.”

Abe glared at Yeager for a moment longer before his shoulders slumped. “I apologize for my display of temper, Captain,” he sighed.

“I completely understand,” Yeager replied smoothly. “This is a trying situation. It cannot have been easy when Simcoe and his men invaded your home.”

Abe squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Simcoe said that if he saw me, he would execute my father in front of me.”

Yeager frowned. “That’s why you’re staying here.” He nodded towards Abe’s wound. “And you are in no condition for hard riding.”

“But--” Abe started to protest automatically.

Yeager held a hand up. “I have seen my fair share of head wounds. One must be careful with them.”

An aide rushed in and whispered in Yeager’s ear. Yeager nodded, turned on his heel, and marched out.

Abe followed. “What is it?”

Yeager led the way onto the front porch. He pointed to dark smoke rising in the distance. “They torched a farm house to the west of here.”

Abe cursed under his breath. “That’s probably Daniel Craven’s house.”

“We’ve got a group of citizens and all the soldiers we can spare, but we cannot save the house,” the aide reported. “The best we can do is try to keep the fire from spreading.”

“Has Mr. Craven been found?” Yeager asked.

“No, Sir. Neither him nor his wife.”

“I doubt we will. Simcoe and Kale are very efficient.”

Abe turned away from the view. He let out an angry snarl. “There’s no way Daniel and Elizabeth were a threat to them. Why couldn’t they just let them be?”

Yeager blew out a long breath and explained patiently, “The fire is a distraction and a drain on our resources. Men who could be out on a search party are busy with the more immediate problem.”


	17. "The man really doesn’t care who he hurts. This must end."

Caleb followed the tracks but kept to the forest. He stopped to scan the area of the fire through his spyglass. One glace was enough to tell him that the house was a lost cause. He didn’t see Daniel or Elizabeth in the crowd and he had a sinking feeling in his gut. If they were at the house when Simcoe arrived….

He heard Daniel’s voice in his head and Daniel was laughing. “A good meal and a tankard of your cider is thanks enough, Lucas. I haven’t been eating as well since Elizabeth has been off at her sister’s.”

“Has Rachel given birth?” Lucas asked.

“Not yet.”

Eight year old Caleb peeked around the doorframe into the main room of his uncle’s house. Lucas and Daniel sat in front of the fire, enjoying their conversation and a smoke. He couldn’t help but notice how massive a man Daniel was. He was a head taller than Lucas, twice as thick, and all muscle. He was clean shaven with a strong, angular jaw.

Lucas chuckled. “Feeding you is the least I can do. With your aid, the fence went up in half the time.”

Daniel waved that off. “Splitting rails is easy.”

“You just make it look easy.” Lucas replied easily. His amused gaze flicked over to the door.

Caleb ducked back. He held his breath. His first impulse was to run back to bed but he was afraid they would hear him.

“You should’ve seen the way Caleb was watching you,” Lucas continued.

“Oh, yeah.” Daniel smirked. He quietly and swiftly rose to his feet. In two large strides, he was at the door. He reached down, wrapped one arm around Caleb, and lifted him easily. “Someone is supposed to be in bed.”

Caleb squealed and laughed. “I’m not tired.”

“Of course, you’re not.” Daniel put Caleb down on his feet in front of his chair. He sat back down so he was eye-to-eye with the boy. “What was so interesting this afternoon?”

Caleb’s eyes were huge. “Umm…”

“It’s okay, lad,” Lucas said warmly.

“Your hands,” Caleb blurted out.

Daniel chuckled and held his hands up. He turned them in the firelight. He held his palm out to Caleb. “What about them?”

Caleb hesitated but put his much smaller hand on Daniel’s. “They’re huge.”

Daniel gently curled his fingers around the much smaller hand. “And calloused.” 

“And your arms are as thick as rails.”

“Not quite,” Daniel answered lightly. “Some day your hands will be big, too.”

“Not as big as yours.”

“Perhaps not, but your father was a good sized man. You will be too.”

Caleb’s voice broke in his excitement. “You knew my father?”

Daniel grinned. “Of course. He was fresh off the boat from England when war broke out with the French. He served with me and your uncle and the reverend…”

“That’s Ben’s dad and Abe’s dad was there too.”

Daniel nodded. “Right and who do you think introduced your parents?”

“You?”

“Right.” Daniel pointed to Lucas. “Big brother was ready to split my skull over it.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “You have to admit. Abel didn’t make the best first impression. You wouldn’t have wanted him courting your sister, either.”

Daniel rolled his eyes right back. “Lucky, I don’t have a sister. Elizabeth’s is a headache enough.”

Caleb looked from Daniel to Lucas and then back again. “When is the baby coming so Ms Elizabeth can come home?”

Lucas looked at Caleb for a long moment. “The child will come in the Lord’s own time. What does that have to do with you?”

“Don’t worry about it, Lucas.” Daniel chucked Caleb under the chin. “He’s simply looking forward to baking day.”

Lucas grunted in exasperation. “What have I told you about stealing pies from Ms Elizabeth?”

Caleb stuck his chin out at Lucas. “She told me that she doesn’t care as long as I’m not stupid enough to get caught.”

Lucas arched an eyebrow. “What?”

Daniel threw his head back and laughed. “That’s right, Lucas. She does say that. She says she’s testing the boy’s wits.”

“And if you are caught?” Lucas asked Caleb.

Caleb rubbed his hands together nervously. “She raps me on the knuckles.” He stared petulantly at the carpet. “And I get no pie.”

Lucas smiled despite himself. “Fair enough.”

Caleb shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to mourn for old friends. He swallowed the anger to join the rest of it swirling in his stomach. It was just another debit in the ledger against Simcoe. “The man really doesn’t care who he hurts. This must end,” he growled vehemently.


	18. “If you think I shall ever beg you for mercy, you are sorely mistaken.”

Hewlett was hot, tired, and sore. His wrists were tied in front of him and the rope was attached to Simcoe’s saddle. He stumbled behind Simcoe’s horse over thick tree roots and branches.

His gaze found Richard tied down to the travois being dragged behind Kale. He didn’t like it that Richard hadn’t stirred the last time he tended to his wound or when they moved him from the wagon. His friend was pale and breathing harshly.

“Tell me, Oyster Major,” Simcoe said airily and waved an arm. “Are you enjoying our little trip? It’s quite educational about the local flora and fauna.”

Hewlett blinked and focused on the ground. He pressed his lips together in a firm line.

Simcoe jerked the rope forward. “I know you’re not deaf.”

Hewlett fell forward onto his knees, hard. He grunted but still said nothing. 

Simcoe half turned in his saddle to deign Hewlett with a condescending smile. “It is highly rude to not answer when someone speaks to you.” He pointed at Hewlett and his eyes sparked mischievously. “Look at you. The prim and proper Major. Filthy. That absurd peasant cloak. Your boots are scuffed and your pants are torn. I can’t imagine why you haven’t died of embarrassment.”

Hewlett climbed to his feet slowly. He mirrored the look, only his was colder and haughtier. “I would answer if you said something worth a reply. All I hear from you is unintelligible noise.”

Simcoe savagely jerked the rope again. “I should drag you along. Have you ever seen what happens to a man dragged behind a horse at full gallop?” he asked with malicious glee.

Hewlett sprawled onto his chest. “Unfortunately, yes.” He glared up at Simcoe. “Do it,” he challenged. “Do it if it will cease your infernal prattling.” 

“I--”

“You,” Hewlett interrupted imperiously. He climbed to his knees. “You are nothing but a murderous barbarian and I have no desire to hear anything you have to say.”

Kale stopped just ahead of them. He turned in the saddle. “Captain.”

Simcoe didn’t take his eyes from Hewlett. He was red in the face. “You will push me too far, Oyster Major.”

“Simcoe!” Kale snapped.

Simcoe jerked back around to face Kale. “What!”

Kale didn’t flinch. “Enough.” He sighed as if bored. “You’re not Achilles. He’s not Hector. And we’re not on the plains of Troy.”

Simcoe’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The Iliad,” Hewlett answered, enunciating each syllable crisply.

“I’ve read it,” Simcoe retorted hotly.

“So you’ll know that Achilles dragged Hector’s body behind his chariot. We don’t have time for that.” Kale faced forward again and nudged his horse. “We need to keep going if we want to get to the cabin before nightfall. Come on, Madman. You know I’m right.”

Simcoe bared his teeth. He threw his head back. “Oh, very well, Kale. You are a killjoy. Up on your feet, Major.”

Hewlett barely had enough time to find his feet before Simcoe dug his heels into his horse’s sides. Simcoe kept to a pace that set him running, but not enough to jerk him off his feet again. It took all he had to keep up.

Hewlett didn’t know how long it took before a small cabin came into sight. He was breathing hard, his skin was slick was sweat, and his heart thundered in his chest. When they finally stopped, his legs felt like lead. He rested with his hands on his knees.

Kale jumped off his horse. He took a second to check on Richard before he headed for the door. “He’s beginning to look like death warmed over but the judge is still with us. I’ll check to make sure we’ve had no unwanted visitors.”

While Kale checked the interior of the cabin, Simcoe looked down at Hewlett. He clicked his tongue between his teeth. “For shame. An officer in His Majesty’s forces should be in tip top condition.”

“Perhaps we should trade places,” Hewlett panted. “To see if you would fare any better. I would wager not.”

Simcoe pulled the rope to force Hewlett closer. He grinned savagely and kicked Hewlett in the face. “I would show respect to the man who has your life in his hands.”

Hewlett landed heavily on the ground. He rolled onto his side and spit out blood. He looked up at Simcoe defiantly. “If you think I shall ever beg you for mercy, you are sorely mistaken.”

Kale walked back out. “Everything is just as we left it. We have enough provisions for three days.”

Simcoe dismounted smoothly. “Good. That’s more than enough time.”

Kale put his hands on his hips. “Time for what exactly?”

“For my game with the Major,” Simcoe answered, looking at Kale like he should’ve already known. He smiled abruptly. “I’m famished,” he announced and brushed past Kale on his way into the cabin.

Kale stared after him for a moment before he went to untie the rope connecting Hewlett to Simcoe’s horse. Then he bent down to haul Hewlett to his feet. He squeezed Hewlett’s arm. “Now, you’ve done real well with us, Major. You give me your word as an officer that you won’t try anything and I’ll free your hands. You try anything and I will do him a mercy and finish the Judge off.” He said it without emotion, as if relating a military dispatch.

Hewlett cleared his throat and held his bound wrists up. “Very well, Sergeant. May I see to my friend?”

Kale cut the ropes and stepped to the side. “By all means.”


	19. “He’s mad! And his madness will get us all killed!”

Obie ambled along on his horse, not a care in the world. He was relaxed and secure with his musket slung over his shoulder. He glanced at Jenkins’ tense form beside him. “Will you stop worrying?”

Jenkins looked over his shoulder. The sun was low on the horizon but he could still see the rising smoke from the wagon. He had a white knuckle grip on the horse’s reins. “I can’t.”

Obie snickered. “If you don’t ease up, the horse will buck you off.”

Jenkins shot Obie a dirty look. “I don’t know how you can be so calm,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“Why not?” Obie waved to encompass their surroundings. “We’re past the outskirts of town. We haven’t seen a soul since we left the farmhouse.”

Jenkins looked around uneasily. “That doesn’t mean no one is looking for us.”

“There’s a difference between looking and finding,” Obie replied easily. “Kale and I know how to cover our tracks.”

Jenkins shook his head. “This whole thing was a bad idea. We shouldn’t have listened to Captain Simcoe.”

Obie shrugged. “He hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

Jenkins squeaked in outrage. “How can you say that? It’s his fault we’re in this predicament. It was his idea to shoot Judge Woodhull. It was his idea to poison the Major’s horse. It was him that killed a prisoner during a time of truce. It was him that decided not to run after we freed him. It was him that needlessly killed those two people back at the farmhouse. It’s his fault that we’re not a hard day’s ride from here.” By the time he was done, he was out of breath and red in the face.

Obie pulled out two strips of smoked dried meat from his bag. He stuck one in his mouth and tossed the other to Jenkins. “So?”

Jenkins caught it while shouting, “He’s mad! And his madness will get us all killed!”

Obie smirked. “Not me.”

“You,” Jenkins spluttered at a loss.

Obie munched happily. “Let me have his revenge on Hewlett and then we’ll be on our way.”

Jenkins stared at the jerky in distaste. He tossed it back to Obie “Why hasn’t he just killed the Major already if that’s his intent?”

Obie shrugged again and stuck it halfway in his mouth. “That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

Jenkins deflated in the saddle. “It’s all it is, isn’t it? Blood madness. Instead of serving the King, we’re cutthroats on the run.”

“Don’t you see?” Obie asked excitedly. “After this, we can do whatever we want. We’ll no longer be at some posh officer’s beck and call. We can disappear.”

“What makes you think we’ll get the chance? Have you forgotten that it’s Captain Yeager pursuing us?”

Obie snorted. “He’s all bark and no bite. You should’ve heard him whining when Kale beat him at dice.”

“I …” Jenkins stuttered. “I…I can’t…”

Obie grabbed Jenkins’ reins and led him off the road. He studied Jenkins for a long moment. “Just a little while longer, Peter,” he said seriously. “When this is over, you can go to Canada, find a girl, and open a tavern. No one has to ever know about this.” He paused and his eyes flashed dangerously. “If you don’t keep your nerve, you know what they’ll do and I won’t lift a finger to stop them.”

Jenkins’ hands shook. “Obie, I…”

Obie smacked Jenkins in the back of the head. “Where are your balls?” he snapped.

Jenkins stared at him, aghast. “I--”

Obie did it again, harder. “You cannot go crying home to mother! We’re dangerous men in a dangerous world. There is not the time or place for sniveling!”

Jenkins shoved Obie away. “Blast you!”

Obie shoved Jenkins back. “Good. Keep that fire in your belly.” He tugged his reins and turned his horse towards the forest. “Now, come on. This way.”

Jenkins glanced at the empty road one last time before following. “Where are we going?”

“A small cabin tucked in the woods. It used to belong to a man named Simmons.”

“Should I ask what became of Mr. Simmons?” Jenkins asked as if he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.

“He’s not dead if that’s what you’re thinking. He isn’t what you’d call a sociable type,” Obie answered blithely. “He’s a wild man. He liked to complain about Setauket getting too big for him. He sold the cabin to Simcoe and disappeared. Kale told me he’s an expert fur trapper and he speaks most of the local Indian dialects. He’s more comfortable with them than other white men. I’m sure he’s found a nice squaw to warm him by now.”

“Sounds like a charming man,” Jenkins muttered.

Obie laughed. “He is what he is and never tries to pretend different. That’s not such a bad thing.” He stopped and swiftly dismounted. “Get down. I’ll show you how to cover our tracks. Then we can get to the cabin for some dinner.”


	20. “You’re boring me, Major.” Simcoe sighed in disappointment. “I guess it’s up to me to liven things up.”

Richard spluttered awake to someone pouring water on his face. He coughed. He blinked to see Simcoe standing over him, canteen in hand.

“Good morning,” Simcoe crowed. “And how are we feeling?”

Richard was hot but the pain in his side was down to a dull throbbing. His body felt stiff and heavy. He could feel the hard floor beneath the animal skin he was lying on. The only things he could see were the wooden ceiling above Simcoe and early morning sunlight from a nearby window.

“Come, come, Your Honor,” Simcoe said, venomously sweet. “We are all concerned for your well being.”

Richard grunted and his voice came out as a rough rasp. “I’m sure.”

“Come get some coffee, Madman,” Kale called and Richard wasn’t sure where his voice was coming from.

Simcoe bared his teeth in a feral mockery of a smile. “Thank you, Kale. Much appreciated,” he said and spun on his heel.

Richard stared at the ceiling. He could pick up on his captors’ chatter but couldn’t decipher it. He shut his eyes.

“Richard.”

Richard opened his eyes to find Hewlett kneeling next to him. “Major.”

Hewlett tried to keep a neutral façade but failed miserably. “How are you feeling?” he asked in concern.

Richard winced. “Not good.” He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. “How long was I out?”

Hewlett slid a hand behind Richard’s head and helped him sip from a canteen. “Since yesterday afternoon. Do you remember the Craven farmhouse?”

Richard sighed heavily. “Yes.” He weakly clutched Hewlett’s wrist. “What about you? How have they been treating you?”

One end of Hewlett’s mouth quirked up. “Simcoe has attempted to bore me to death with his bluster, but nothing I cannot handle. Kale and I have an agreement. I have given him no trouble and he has caused me no more. Obie and Jenkins follow him.”

“If you see an opportunity for escape, do not hesitate to take it.”

Hewlett shook his head. “I cannot do that, Richard. I will not leave you alone with them.”

Richard coughed. “It may not matter.”

Hewlett set his jaw. “I will not have you speak in such a way.”

Richard swallowed a whimper. “It hurts and it feels like there’s a fire under my skin.”

Hewlett clasped Richard’s hand. “An assassin’s bullet will not be the end of you, my friend.”

“And here I thought it was a great shot,” a voice interrupted smugly.

Hewlett jerked and glared over his shoulder. “Obie,” he growled, low and intent. “It was you.”

“It was me all right,” Obie agreed.

Richard used all his strength to stop Hewlett from springing to his feet. He squeezed Hewlett’s fingers as hard as he could. “Do not give him an excuse.”

Hewlett’s whole body was tense with barely concealed rage. “I assume it was on Simcoe’s order.”

“Oh, yeah,” Obie answered easily. “He figured you’d blame the rebel conspirators, which you did.” He snickered. “I suppose it’s also okay to tell you that we poisoned your horse, too.”

“Edmund, look at me,” Richard whispered raggedly.

Hewlett turned his attention back to Richard. He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. “How did I not know that I had such animals under my command.”

Richard held Hewlett’s gaze. “Listen, there’s a reason they are telling us this now. Do not let them provoke you.”

Hewlett squeezed his eyes shut. He grudgingly nodded. “You’re right,” he breathed. “You’re right.”

“You mean he still does not wish to play,” Simcoe said, absurdly disappointed in Hewlett’s reactions thus far.

“Unsociable is what it is,” Obie added.

“You’re boring me, Major.” Simcoe sighed in disappointment. “I guess it’s up to me to liven things up.” He raised his voice. “Jenkins, get over here and help the Major bring His Honor outside.”

Richard couldn’t help wincing at the thought of moving. “Blast,” he muttered under his breath.

Hewlett turned to face Simcoe in the doorway. “Leave him be,” he spit out.

“He’ll want to see this,” Simcoe replied lightly.

Richard tugged on Hewlett’s arm. “Let’s get his over with.”

Jenkins joined them without looking either of them in the face. He didn’t speak. It seemed like he hardly breathed.

Richard bit his tongue against the pain when they got on either side of him and pulled him up to stand. He tried to breathe deeply but he was shaky and uneven. He had to lean heavily on both of them.

“When you’re ready, Richard,” Hewlett said quietly.

Richard hardly took in the one-room cabin. All his focus went into remaining standing and breathing through the pain. He nodded once. “Okay.”

It seemed like forever before they got outside. There was a low fire nearby and the scent of coffee hung in the air. There was a slight chill.

Simcoe waved. “You can put him down there.”

Richard grit his teeth as they eased him down onto a bench in front of the cabin. He panted and rested his back against the wall. He pressed a hand to the dressing over his wound and felt wetness against his palm.

Simcoe bowed to Kale with a flourish. “Kale, if you would be so kind.”

Kale rolled his eyes and approached Hewlett. He took Hewlett’s arm. “Come on, Major. He won’t be put off.”

Hewlett glared imperiously at Simcoe but allowed Kale to lead him over to a thick tree. He didn’t react when Kale methodically stripped him to the waist. He didn’t speak when Kale pressed his chest into the tree. He brought his arms up around the trunk and let himself be tied to it.

Simcoe took position a few feet from Hewlett’s bare back. “Sadly, I don’t have the cat `o nine tails. These switches will have to do.” He yanked Hewlett’s head back. “You’re an educated man,” he sneered. “You will count the lashes out loud in Greek and Latin.” He leaned in close to Hewlett’s ear. “I want to hear you. Don’t be shy.” He bit Hewlett’s earlobe. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Hewlett hissed.

Simcoe let go of Hewlett’s head. “Good.”

“Captain,” Richard tried. “You don’t have to do this.”

Simcoe favored Richard with a malicious smile. “I want to do this and you will watch. If you look away, we’ll start all over.”


	21. "This sight would make quite the portrait, don’t you think?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair Warning: Hewlett torture ahead.

The first lash was painful and shocking. Hewlett counted without a hitch in his voice. “Alpha. Unum.”

“Very good,” Simcoe said pleasantly.

The second lash was the same. Hewlett had to swallow before he could speak. “Beta. Duo.” He jerked with the third lash. “Gamma. Tres.”

“Look at the vivid red stripes on his back, Kale,” Simcoe purred and it had a savage edge to it. 

Hewlett squeezed his eyes shut with the fourth lash. He pulled at the ropes. “Delta. Quattuor.”

“This sight would make quite the portrait, don’t you think?" Simcoe asked conversationally.

Kale matched Simcoe’s tone. “With all due respect, I’m not sure if a painting could capture the intensity of it.”

“I see your point.”

Hewlett felt the tears forming under his eyelids. He jerked again as the pain flared out from his back to the rest of his body. He bit his bottom lip.

“I’m waiting,” Simcoe taunted. “Don’t make me have to start over.”

Hewlett grunted. “Epsilon. Quinque.”

“Things would have been so much simpler if you’d just listened to me. We’re here to kill rebels, not to invite them to a tea party.”

“No, my mission is to protect His Majesty’s loyal subjects.” Hewlett tasted blood in his mouth. “Digamma. Sex.”

Simcoe barked a laugh. “You’re making that up.”

Hewlett rested his cheek against the bark. His back was throbbing. His hands hurt from pulling at the ropes. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air.

“I don’t know,” Kale said nonchalantly, as if they were speaking about the weather. “Your Honor?”

Richard’s voice was tight. “He’s not. Sex is the correct term for six in Latin. How many lashes are you planning on giving him?”

“We’ll start at twelve and see what happens. Kindly keep your mouth shut until we’re finished or I may lose count.” Simcoe ran the tip of the switch over the bleeding lashes. “Ah, well,” he mused. “You learn something new every day. This is one of those times I regret not attending university.”

Hewlett let out a strangled cry. He couldn’t help squirming and pressing into the tree. The bark was rough against his skin. 

Simcoe continued prodding at the wounds. “What about you, Kale?”

Hewlett’s body instinctively tried to curl away but there was nowhere to go. He cried out again. “Damn you!”

“Never had much time for school,” Kale answered deadpan.

Simcoe snickered. “You should be honored to be receiving such an education then.”

“I won’t remember it,” Kale drawled.

Simcoe clicked his tongue between his teeth. “How disappointing. Shall we continue? And don’t forget to count.”

Another jolt of pain seared through him. Hewlett’s voice cracked. “Zeta. Septem.”

Simcoe’s oily voice was close to Hewlett’ s ear. “If you want to offer an apology for not heeding me, I will not stop you.”

Hewlett’s skin was slick was sweat and blood. He turned his head and spit in Simcoe’s face. “No.”

Simcoe smiled and wiped his face. He disappeared from view. “We’re on eight, I believe.”

Hewlett cried out in agony. He pushed the words out. “Eta. Octo.”

“Eta,” Simcoe echoed. “I like that word.”

There was a wet disgusting sound when the switch hit his back again. Hewlett almost couldn’t think of the words for nine. “Theta,” he gasped. “Novem.”

Simcoe chuckled lightly. “I must say I’m beginning to appreciate Greek. I like the way it rolls off the tongue.”

The pain was blinding. Hewlett’s breath was short and his voice was barely audible. “Iota. Decem,” he managed before slumping against the tree and everything went dark.


	22. "Robert Rogers would take one look at you dressed like this and laugh himself silly."

Caleb recognized the remains of the wagon for what it was: another distraction. He checked anyway to be sure there were no human remains. He growled low in his throat and turned away from the wreck.

Caleb got back on his horse. He tried re-tracing his route to pick up the real trail, but the clues were too scattered. He took his hat off, rested on the saddle in front of him, and ran both his hands over his face and then through his hair in frustration. “Just hold on, Your Honor. I will find you.”

That’s when he heard something or someone crashing through the foliage. The sound was coming towards him. He had just enough time to lead his horse behind a cluster of dense trees and scrambled up into one of them. He crouched on a thick branch and waited.

The horseman soon came into view. Caleb swung down from the branch to drive both feet into the rider’s chest, sending the rider crashing to the ground. He dropped down and knocked the man on the back of the head before he could even climb to his hands and knees.

Caleb turned the man onto his back. He took in the unfamiliar face, close cropped blonde hair, and the disheveled clothes. “You’re not from around here, are ya boy-o?” he muttered. 

Caleb searched his captive but the man had nothing on him. He swiftly tied the man’s hands, gagged him, and dragged him out of sight. Then he quickly retrieved his own horse to chase down the runaway.

It didn’t take Caleb long to catch the other horse. He led it back into the woods where he searched it. He found some food and a canteen in the saddlebags. He bared his teeth when he found the man’s only weapon.

Caleb snickered to himself and got out his rope. He threw one end over a stout branch and attached it to the second horse. Then he looped the other end over his prisoner’s ankles. 

Caleb walked the horse away, pulling the rope over the branch, and lifting the man off the ground to hang upside down. He stopped the horse when the man’s face was just about level with his.

Caleb slapped the man’s face. “Wakey. Wakey.”

The man just groaned.

Caleb did it again. “Hey!”

The man startled awake. He squeaked and looked at Caleb with wide eyes. He looked around wildly but his hands were still tied and there was nothing he could do besides dangle like a worm on a hook.

Caleb’s grin was that of a predator. “Now, I’m going to take this gag off and we’re gonna have a little talk.” He took the gag off. “That’s better.”

The man’s British accent wasn’t posh but it was thick. “What do you want with me? I have no money.”

“You’re one of Simcoe’s deserters,” Caleb stated. 

The man’s voice cracked. “What? No, I’m not.”

Caleb grabbed a handful of the man’s hair. He didn’t have to pull for the man to wince. “Maybe not now, but up until very recently. He scared you away.”

The man swallowed. “No. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Caleb stepped to the side so the man could see where he’d propped up the man’s rifle against a nearby tree. This time he did pull the man’s hair. “I found your musket, your Brown Bess. It’s standard issue for lobster backs, but you’re not in uniform and there’s no way in hell that you’re a Queen’s Ranger. You’re not rough enough. Robert Rogers would take one look at you dressed like this and laugh himself silly.”

The man’s bottom lip trembled. “I…” his voice trailed off helplessly.

Caleb leaned in close to the man’s face. His voice was low and dangerous. “You are one of Simcoe’s. You helped that bastard escape.”

The man started shaking. “No,” he whispered brokenly.

Caleb took a step back, pulled out his pistol, and aimed it at the man’s forehead. “Okay, you’re not one of Simcoe’s. You’re still a spy or deserter.”

“Wait!” the prisoner wailed. He was red in the face and on the verge of weeping. “You’re right. I was with Simcoe but I ran.”

Caleb lowered his weapon. He patted the man’s cheek. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? What’s your name?” 

“Jenkins.”

Caleb made of show of sticking his pistol back in his belt. “All right, Jenkins. Where are they?”

Jenkins blinked rapidly and sniffed. “A cabin that used to belong to a man called Simmons.”

Caleb cradled Jenkins face in both hands. “Breathe. As long as you help me, I don’t need to hurt you and I won’t. You mean Arthur Simmons?”

“I don’t know. I heard he’s a recluse,” Jenkins babbled. “He sold the cabin to Captain Simcoe because Setauket is getting too big for his tastes and he’d rather live amongst the Indians anyway.”

Caleb nodded. “That’s him. How many men does Simcoe have with him?”

“Just Kale and Obie now.”

“And the hostages?”

Jenkins licked his lips nervously. “They’re alive.” He looked about to say more but snapped his mouth shut.

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. He applied slight pressure to Jenkins’ skull. “Are they all right?”

“They both need a doctor. The judge’s wound is plaguing him and Major Hewlett,” Jenkins stuttered.

“What about the major?”

“Simcoe flogged him until he passed out and left him tied to the tree.” Jenkins paused and let out a shuddering breath. “And Simcoe said that he’s not done. Simcoe doesn’t care if he’s caught anymore. He can’t see past his own need for blood. He’s mad.”

“Thanks. That’s all I need.” Caleb eased away and went to walk the horse back to lower Jenkins to the ground. He tied Jenkins to the tree.

Jenkins squirmed but the ropes were too tight. “Wait. You can’t leave me like this.”

Caleb helped Jenkins take a drink from a canteen and then dropped it by his side. “A search party is a half day behind me. Tell them about the cabin.”

“But they’ll arrest me.”

Caleb turned away from him and mounted his horse. “Probably, but if they find the hostages in time, they might not kill you.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” Jenkins called after him.

“I’m not,” Caleb threw over his shoulder.


	23. “I can’t sprout your pompous gibberish with any degree of realism.”

Simcoe was bare to the waist with abstract designs painted in blood on his chest and streaks under his eyes. The blood wasn’t his. It was sticky against his skin and the smell should’ve bothered him, but it didn’t.

He danced around Hewlett’s tree. He threw his arms in the air and whooped and hollered like he thought Indians would. He paid no attention to Kale crouched near the low fire, watching him intently. He didn’t care about Richard watching him, aghast, or Obie sitting next to Kale and laughing at him.

Simcoe paused and leaned against the tree next to Hewlett’s slack face. “Not so high and mighty now, are you?” He flicked the tip of Hewlett’s nose. “Nothing to say? You are no fun.”

Simcoe reached out and put one hand on the top of Hewlett’s head and the other under his chin. He mimed Hewlett talking like a grotesque puppet. He mimicked Hewlett’s precise accent in a high pitched voice. “I must confess. I am embarrassed. I am here to save the town, but I do not have the stomach to kill rebels. I am only half the man you are.”

Simcoe tilted his head to the side as if considering. He slipped back into his normal voice. “Yes, that is true, but admitting to the problem is the first step in solving it.”

Simcoe went back to his Hewlett voice. “I am afraid that there is no hope for me. I should have never stood against you.”

Simcoe sighed, suddenly bored. “I can’t sprout your pompous gibberish with any degree of realism.” 

Simcoe peered at Hewlett’s face. “Wake up, Major. Wake up. Wake up.” He grunted in disappointment and let go of Hewlett’s head.

Suddenly, Simcoe ran back to the cabin. He threw himself on the bench next to Richard. He wrapped an arm around Richard’s tense shoulders. He pointed at Hewlett, specifically Hewlett’s back covered in lashes. Some were crusted over with dried blood. Others still bled sluggishly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Richard stared at the ground and didn’t answer.

Simcoe gave Richard a squeeze. “Come now. I’m interested in what you think.”

“No, you’re not,” Richard returned wearily.

“I am. Don’t distress yourself. The Major is alive. Now, look,” Simcoe coaxed, close to Richard’s ear.

Richard jerked away from the breath against his ear. He winced at the slight movement. He frowned at the sight. “Cut him down. Please,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I can’t,” Simcoe answered expansively. “I’m not done. I must leave my canvas where it is.”

“Canvas?”

“Yes. I’m an artist, an artist of blood.”

Richard glared at Simcoe. “You’re mad.”

Simcoe smirked. “Perhaps, I am, but I’ve found a certain degree of freedom in this madness.” He tightened his grip on Richard’s shoulders. He pressed his free hand over Richard’s wound. He listened to Richard’s breath catch. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with your blood, Your Honor.”

Richard hissed in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t reply.

Simcoe pressed harder. “Any suggestions?”

Kale sprang to his feet. “Madman.”

Simcoe didn’t take his eyes off Richard’s haggard face. “Yes?”

“Jenkins is gone.”

“So? He won’t last two days out there by himself.”

Obie scrambled to his feet and started kicking dirt on the fire while Kale came closer. “You’re right,” Kale said. “Yeager has plenty of patrols out searching for us. Jenkins will spill the location of this place. We should go and we can leave the hostages behind to buy us time. If they are taking care of these two, they won’t be hunting us.”

Simcoe finally looked up at Kale standing over him. He blinked in confusion and stood. “I can’t leave.” He pushed past Kale and took a few steps toward the tree. He stopped. He shook his head. “I’m not finished.”

Kale circled around to Simcoe’s front. He smiled wryly. “I thought you’d say that.”

Simcoe didn’t see the knife but he felt it slide in. He felt his own flesh tear. He looked down at his blood covering Kale’s hand. He blinked stupidly before he looked back up at Kale with wide eyes. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. 

Kale leaned in close to Simcoe’s ear. “It’s nothing personal.”

Simcoe fell to his knees. He saw the glint of the knife just before Kale swiftly cut his throat. He pitched forward and was dead before he hit the ground.


	24. "I left a little leprechaun to show them the way."

Caleb left his horse out of sight and approached cautiously on foot. He didn’t hear anything. He was silent in his movements and there was no talking or sounds of life from the direction of the cabin.

He hid behind a thick tree. He peered around it and pulled out his spyglass. His gut twisted. It took all he had not to break cover when he saw Richard slumped on the bench just outside of the cabin. Richard’s head was back and he couldn’t tell if he was conscious.

Next, he saw the body on the ground a few feet away. It was face down and completely still.

He continued looking around and saw Hewlett next, still tied to the tree. He frowned at the sight of the bloody mess on his back. “He may be an English bastard but he doesn’t deserve that,” he muttered to himself.

Caleb looked for Kale and Obie, but there was no sign of them or their horses. He continued to scan the area, searching for any signs of a trap. There was nothing. The area was too quiet. 

The tension was building in his gut and he started rocking back and forth on his heels. Suddenly, he sprinted for the cabin. He barely stopped by the body, saw all the blood on the ground, and knew the man was dead.

Caleb dropped to his knees in front of Richard. He didn’t hesitate to touch Richard. He put one hand on Richard’s shoulder and cupped the side of his face with the other. He took a moment to take in Richard’s pale appearance and harsh breathing. “Richard,” he whispered urgently.

Richard groaned and blinked at Caleb. His gaze was unfocused. His voice was low and hoarse. “Caleb? Is that you?”

Caleb grinned. “In the flesh.”

Richard weakly grabbed Caleb’s wrists. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Caleb drawled. He brushed his thumb over Richard’s cheek. “I’m here for you.”

One end of Richard’s mouth quirked up. His hands fell to his sides. “Forgive me. I’m not at my best.”

“That’s all right.” Caleb leaned in to press his forehead against Richard’s. He shut his eyes.

They were still for a long moment, breathing together.

Richard was the one to finally break the silence. “Caleb.”

“I know.” Caleb eased back and looked around. He didn’t let go of Richard. “What happened? I was told there would be Simcoe and two others.”

Richard nodded towards the body. He sighed heavily. “Simcoe’s dead.”

Caleb looked back at Richard in surprise. “What?”

Richard shifted uneasily. “Sergeant Kale slit his throat. He was calm and efficient about it. Then he and Obie took off.”

“How long have they been gone?”

“I don’t know.” Richard blew out a long breath. “I’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness.”

“I have a feeling they’re long gone.” Caleb growled in disappointment. “I was hoping to kill that bastard myself.”

“He’s paying for his sins. Does it matter who sent him to hell?”

“I guess not,” Caleb allowed.

Richard reached out to touch the side of Caleb’s face with the back of his hand. “Can you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Check on Hewlett. Cut him down.”

Caleb wrinkled his nose. “He’s an English officer.” 

“Caleb.”

“He’s a pratt.”

Richard smiled tiredly. “And that pratt is my friend.”

“I don’t know if I like that.” Caleb grimaced. “If I touch him, I’ll break out in hives.”

“Take him inside. Please.”

Caleb took Richard’s hand. He kissed his palm. He rolled his eyes and then jumped to his feet. “Oh, all right. If I break out, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough,” Richard rumbled in subdued amusement.

Caleb approached Hewlett slowly. He looked for any signs of tension or awareness but there was none. He circled the tree and Hewlett didn’t even twitch. He checked for a pulse and was not entirely disappointed when he found it.

Caleb wrapped an arm around Hewlett’s waist, under most of the lashes. He cut one hand free and Hewlett slumped into him. He pulled Hewlett’s limp body across his shoulders. Then he carefully turned and carried him into the cabin. He eased Hewlett down onto a pile of skins in one corner. He left Hewlett on his stomach, still dead to the world.

Caleb went back outside. He made a show of rubbing his hands on his pants. “Done.” 

Richard had his head back and eyes closed again. “Thank you.”

Caleb bent over Richard. “I should probably get you inside, too.”

“I don’t know if I can move.”

“Your wound?”

“Is okay for the moment,” Richard growled.

“All right. I suppose we can sit out here for a while,” Caleb replied soothingly. He sat next to Richard on his good side. He put an arm around him and let Richard lean against him.

Richard relaxed in Caleb’s arms. He rested his head on Caleb’s shoulder. He turned his face into the crook of Caleb’s neck. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be with your own army.”

Caleb rubbed Richard’s back. “I’ll have you know that I have permission to be here, from Ben Tallmadge himself.”

“Somehow, I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”

Caleb snickered. “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Richard laughed softly against Caleb’s neck. “I’m so tired.”

Caleb kissed the side of Richard’s head. “It’s okay to sleep. I’ll be here until the search party catches up to me. I left a little leprechaun to show them the way.”

Caleb sat with Richard, holding him and listening to him breathe until he heard the search party coming. He eased Richard down to lay on the bench. He brushed a quick kiss on Richard’s forehead.

Caleb turned and caught sight of Simcoe’s body. He’d almost forgotten it was there. He smiled impishly to himself. “You shouldn’t,” he told himself. However, that didn’t stop him from standing over the body and pissing on it. He tucked himself back in, gave the body one last kick, and ran off.


	25. Epilogue

Epilogue:

Abe paced outside Richard’s bedroom door. He stopped when it opened. He looked anxiously at Aberdeen.

Richard’s faithful servant just smiled, nodded for him to go in, and went down the hall to see to her other duties.

Abe slipped inside to find Richard standing by the window. “Father.”

Richard leaned slightly against the windowsill. His complexion was better. He looked at Abe and his eyes were clear and sharp. “Abraham,” he returned warmly.

Abe came closer. He stopped a couple steps away. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?”

Richard offered a lop sided smile. “Yes. These four walls are beginning to drive me stir crazy. If Major Hewlett is ready to resume light duties, then I can leave this room.”

Abe bit his bottom lip. “But…” he trailed off and looked at Richard helplessly.

Richard frowned in concern. “Abe?”

“It…” Abe motioned to Richard. “You…” He hugged his arms across his chest. “It hasn’t been that long and the way you looked when they brought you back. I thought…I…” he stuttered and his face flushed in embarrassment. He shook his head wildly. He sniffed. “And all I could think was that I let them take you. I couldn’t protect my own father.”

Richard closed the distance between them. He moved stiffly but ignored it. He grabbed Abe’s arm. “Stop.”

Abe abruptly shut his mouth. He hung his head and stared at the floor. He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Richard squeezed Abe’s bicep. “It’s all right,” he said, quietly and firmly.

Suddenly, Abe pulled Richard into a fierce hug. His voice shook. “Father.”

If Richard’s side twinged, he didn’t let on. He hugged Abe back. “It’s not your fault.”

“But--” Abe tried to protest.

“No,” Richard said with quiet authority.

“Love you,” Abe mumbled into Richard’s shoulder.

Richard rubbed the back of Abe’s neck. “Love you, too, Son.”

Abe pulled back. He wiped his nose with his sleeve. He averted his eyes from Richard’s gaze.

Richard chuckled and put a hand on Abe’s shoulder. “Accompany me downstairs.”

Abe took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

Richard had to lean on Abe. “Oh, is there something you wanted to tell me?” he asked off-handedly. “My memories are fuzzy from that first night, but I thought…”

Abe set a slow pace. “Not that I can recall,” he answered blandly and hated himself just a little bit for it.

Meanwhile, Hewlett sat down gingerly behind his desk at headquarters. He was pleased to be back in a spotless uniform complete with a powdered wig. He had to move slowly and his back was stiff and sore but he refused to be bedridden for any longer. He sat forward and shuffled the papers on his desk.

Yeager came into the church. He carried a basket of peaches and pears and set it on Hewlett’s desk. He came to attention. “Good morning, Major.”

Hewlett inclined his head. “Good morning. At ease, Captain.” He eyed the basket critically. “What are these for?”

Yeager gave a charming smile. “A little welcome back gift, Sir. Don’t worry. My men picked them. We figured you wouldn’t appreciate apples.”

The anger flashed across Hewlett’s face. “Quite.” 

Yeager’s face fell. “I apologize. I didn’t think.”

Hewlett shook his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He smiled tightly. “No, Captain. No apology is necessary. The thought is appreciated.” He motioned to a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”

Yeager did so. “Thank you.”

Hewlett growled in disappointment. He looked around, anywhere except at Yeager. “Sometimes, I find that I must still remind myself that the swine is dead.”

Yeager bared his teeth. “He’s gone. I had to rein the men in from desecrating his body. We buried him in an unmarked hole in the ground. There will be no trace of the man’s existence.”

Hewlett blinked and forced himself to meet Yeager’s understanding gaze. “Any word on Kale and Obie?” he asked briskly.

Yeager shook his head. “No, Major. No one finds Kale unless he wants to be found.”

“That man has his own code of honor as bizarre as it is.” Hewlett paused and sighed. “Do we know how Jenkins escaped from custody?”

“No.” Yeager shrugged. “The boy is hopeless. I don’t know how he managed to disappear like a puff of smoke.

Hewlett massaged his temples against the coming headache. “Dismissed, Captain.”

Meanwhile, Richard spent the day playing chess with Abe and watching Thomas run around outside. He didn’t think he pushed himself too much but he still retired early after dinner.

By time he climbed the stairs, he was exhausted. He went into his room. He barely shut the door before he was pulled into a bear hug.

“Your Honor,” a voice whispered intently in his ear.

Richard returned the embrace. “My reckless one.”

Caleb pulled back just enough to grin at Richard. He reached behind Richard to lock the door. “You have to admit that I’m a master at sneaking in here by now. Don’t worry. I can be quiet. The sentries have no idea I’m here. Major Hewlett is just as exhausted as you are. Aberdeen will give him some warm milk and he’ll sleep like a babe in his mother’s arms.”

Richard chuckled. “You’ve corrupted her to your cause.” 

Caleb arched his eyebrows. “She knows you need me.”

“I…” Richard shook his head and leaned into Caleb. “I don’t have the strength to argue with you.”

“Then don’t.” Caleb led Richard to the bed. He pushed him to sit on the edge. He knelt down to help Richard with his boots.

Richard rested his hands on Caleb’s shoulders. “Out of curiosity, did you have anything to do with Jenkins’ miraculous escape?”

Caleb gave a toothy grin. “You should’ve seen his face when I took him to a privateer friend of mine. I didn’t really give him much choice to join the crew. Lionel will keep him in line.”

“I don’t need to know any more.”

Caleb sat back on his knees and looked up at Richard solemnly. “It didn’t seem right for him to rot on the Jersey while Kale and Obie are running around free.” He stuck his chin out defiantly. “Besides, if it weren’t for him, we may not have found you in time.”

Richard leaned forward to rest his forehead against Caleb’s. “It’s all right.”

A few hours later, there were three light raps in quick succession on the door. Caleb woke instantly. He was spooned behind Richard, his chest to Richard’s back. He had an arm around Richard’s chest. He gave Richard a squeeze, kissed the back of his neck, and rolled away. Richard didn’t stir and he was glad of it.

Caleb was still dressed except for his boots. He pulled them on and hurried to the door. He slipped into the hall with Aberdeen.

Aberdeen held a finger to her lips. She led him through the house to the kitchen. “It’s almost dawn. I sent Josiah to stall the change of the guard. The sentries out there now are ready to fall asleep.”

Caleb nodded. “Thanks.”

Aberdeen pulled him into a quick hug. “Thank you for finding him.”

Caleb lifted her off the ground. “I had to. You keep an eye on him. Don’t let him push himself too hard.”

“I won’t.” Aberdeen pushed a wrapped bundle into his arms. “For when you’re safely away.”

Caleb peeked inside. His eyes lit up. “Homemade biscuits and honey.” He planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “No one in the Continental Army can cook like you. You’re an angel, Aberdeen.”

Aberdeen laughed quietly and shooed him away. “Off with you.”

Caleb saluted her. “Yes, Ma’am.”


End file.
